Setting the Course
by Putaro
Summary: Part 1 of Five Year Mission: After Terra Prime, Enterprise prepares for a five year mission beyond the boundaries of the Coalition while the Romulans prepare mischief.  Trip and T'Pol get "a lot of work done" on their relationship.
1. Of TPS Reports and Interstellar Empires

Chapter 1 – Of TPS reports and interstellar empires

_Intro updated July 8, 2012:_

_I'd like to say thank you to everyone who has shared their writing and since I enjoy reading these things, I figured the best way to say Thank You is to write and share something._

_As the title implies, this will cover an actual "Five Year Mission." Enterprise is going to get a long way from Earth and they're not going to go back home for more cookies all the time. There will be adventure, drama, comedy, politics, romance, TnT development, hard science fiction and good ol' Star Trek style science fiction._

_I currently have the major story arcs plotted out and it naturally breaks into four parts.  
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_Part 1 is kind of slow as we prepare for the mission and wind a lot of clocks but it finishes with a bang! Part 1 is now complete so I've marked it as such, but it continues in part 2, The Ocean of Night. I know some people don't like to read fics until they are actually done, so this is fair warning if you don't like being left hanging.  
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_Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy it as much as I am enjoying writing it! Reviews are appreciated!_

_I've updated the story so that everyone who is subscribed to Part 1 will get a notification that Part 2 is available.  
_

_This story is also being posted at Triaxian Silk. TnT shippers (and everyone interested in Enterprise) are invited to come join the general discussion. Thanks to Distracted/2Distracted for beta-ing these early chapters and cleaning up some of the messiness.  
_

March 8, 2156 0848 – Enterprise Ready Room, en route to Andoria (Procyon VIII)

Jonathan Archer's mind was wandering. The morning senior staff meetings usually bored him, and today's was worse than usual. _Enterprise_ was ferrying representatives from the United Earth assembly to Andoria for a "fact-finding" mission. This mission was being sponsored by a group of Andorian companies; the itinerary seemed to consist primarily of snow sports and large amounts of Andorian ale. Compared to the excitement of invading the Klingon empire or tracking down the Xindi in the Delphic Expanse, the last few months had been downright boring.

All members of the senior staff were present this morning. First Officer Commander T'Pol was running the meeting. Chief Engineer Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker, Ensign Hoshi Sato the communications officer, Ensign Travis Mayweather, the lead helmsman, Tactical Officer Lieutenant Malcolm Reed and Dr. Phlox all displayed signs of terminal boredom.

T'Pol was going down the list of department readiness statistics "Science department, one hundred percent. Life support, one hundred percent. Armory, ninety eight percent. Communications, ninety nine percent. Medical, ninety seven percent. Propulsion, ninety five percent."

"Hey, wait a minute" objected Commander Tucker. "I gave you the stats for propulsion before the meeting. The engines are purring like kittens. We're at one hundred percent."

T'Pol looked at Trip. "That is what you wrote on your report. However, you also informed me that one of the anti-matter injectors is off-line for maintenance and ten percent of the EPS grid is being cleaned. Therefore, we are incapable of reaching full emergency warp, and I am marking propulsion as being only ninety five percent capable."

Trip rolled his eyes. "Great. Thanks a lot, T'Pol. You know that any time a department goes under ninety six percent readiness I have to file a TPS report. It's not like we'll be needing full emergency warp on this milk run. And I could get that injector and the grid back online in twenty minutes."

T'Pol replied, coolly. "If you do not wish to file TPS reports, keep all of your departments above ninety six percent. This maintenance could have been performed at Jupiter Station before we set course for Andoria."

Trip was getting agitated. He was nearly shouting now. "If I had let those grease monkeys at Jupiter Station do the maintenance we'd be at fifty percent readiness right now. Besides, I need something for my staff to do or they're going to get out of training."

The eyebrow went up. "'Grease monkeys', Commander? I believe that is a new colloquialism."

Trip and T'Pol had been hit heavily the past year. The short life of their daughter Elizabeth, created by the extremists of Terra Prime to try to show that Humans and extraterrestrials were basically incompatible, had affected them both deeply. After Trip had returned from Columbia it had seemed that they were on their way to a closer, friendlier relationship, perhaps even too close it seemed to Archer. Now they had returned to their previous continual bickering. They were both good officers, but it was driving Archer nuts.

He shut them down. "OK. Enough. Stop. T'Pol, please mark propulsion at ninety six percent. Trip, next time don't fudge your report. We're way too close to headquarters to skimp on the paperwork."

The meeting resumed, and Archer let his attention wander again. Too close to home. Andoria was over eleven light years from Earth. Before the Warp Five program and _Enterprise_, that would have taken sixteen months. With _Enterprise_ cruising easily at warp five, it would only take a month. Oh well, maybe he could catch up with Shran and see if there were any types of Andorian ale he hadn't sampled yet. He made a note on his PADD to make sure that Phlox made up plenty of his hangover remedy.

T'Pol was wrapping up the meeting. "Does anyone have any new issues to raise at this time?"

It suddenly gelled for Archer. "Yes, I have a new issue. Trip's right, this is a milk run. We've been waiting for months for Starfleet to assign us a real mission. The crew's at 100 percent, _Enterprise_ has never been in better shape mechanically. It's time for us to get back to exploration. It's what the ship was built for and what we were trained for, not taking politicians on junkets.

We're going to have to come up with our own mission. T'Pol, I want the Science department to take the lead on this. We're going to come up with a mission that will get us out of range of the bean counters and armchair admirals."

T'Pol came back immediately. "The Vulcan Science Academy has a long list of interstellar phenomena they have wished to investigate. I will look it over, select ten with the most potential for interesting results as well as farthest distance from Earth and bring those to tomorrow's staff meeting."

Archer knew what he wanted. "T'Pol, that's not bold enough. I know the Vulcan Science Academy. We'll wind up cataloguing interstellar particles or tracking a Pycan space moth at sublight. I want a mission that will go past the limits of our knowledge. Beyond anything Earth or anyone in the Coalition has done before."

"Indeed. Perhaps I will solicit suggestions from the crew, then. The Human practice of 'brainstorming' can often produce 'out of the box' results. I will, of course, apply a discount factor to Commander Tucker's suggestions, as his practice of exaggerating his readiness reports makes him unreliable."

Malcolm interjected before Trip could stop spluttering. "Be sure to screen any suggestions from Corporal Romero as well." A sly smile crept over his face as he continued, "I don't think any missions to Uranus need to be considered."

Hoshi nailed Malcolm with a glare. Travis let a smile cross his lips. Phlox spoke up "Even I could rule that out. T'Pol, I'm sure Uranus has been thoroughly explored by Humans already."

Trip started coughing. Archer suppressed a grin. T'Pol lifted an eyebrow and intoned "Indeed."

Archer kicked them out of his ready room. "Dismissed. I'll take the conn this morning. T'Pol, please get started on the brainstorming."

He could hear Trip grousing to T'Pol as they walked to the turbolift. "Were you really going to make me fill out another damn TPS report?"

"I think one more to complete would not make a significant difference. If memory serves, you have 84 outstanding, many of them dating back to our time in the Delphic Expanse. Why would Corporal Romero be interested in Uranus?"

"Um, well, it's all in how you pronounce it, see…" The turbolift door cut off any more grade school humor.

Archer sat down in the command chair. The new lumbar supports were nice.

Hoshi started talking to Travis. "You know, that's why I chose to work in Brazil. It was the farthest place from my parents with interesting work."

Archer pulled up the latest UECAA water polo results on the PADD built-in to the command chair. It was going to be a long morning.


	2. Spicing Things Up

Chapter 2 – Spicing Things Up

March 8, 2156 1115 hours – _Enterprise_, T'Pol's office, en route to Andoria (Procyon VIII)

The designers of _Enterprise_ had not allocated office space for the crew, instead giving them enlarged living quarters with workspaces. As First Officer, T'Pol's duties included a large number of personal interactions that couldn't be taken care of at her bridge station. Her private nature had made having those interactions in her quarters very taxing. After the ship's return from the Expanse, the administrative workload had increased even more as routine matters such as performance reviews and minor discipline were no longer put off. She had finally asked the captain if she could take over a small science lab for her office. He had given her a wry look and said "Rank Hath Its Privileges". Trip had made a comment about empire building but had fashioned a nice sign for the door. She usually left her door open.

Trip entered T'Pol's office. He gave her a small smile and said "Hi, T'Pol. What did you want to see me about?"

T'Pol looked at him levelly and said, "I have written a posting for the ship web soliciting mission suggestions. I wanted to have you review it before I put it online."

She handed him a PADD.

_Solicitation for mission proposals: All crewmembers are invited to submit mission proposals for scientific exploration missions for Enterprise. Mission proposals will be evaluated for contribution to Coalition scientific knowledge and novelty and leading proposals will be submitted to Starfleet command for further review. Please submit all proposals by 1700 hours, March 15__th__, 2156._

Trip's brow crinkled. "Oh no, T'Pol. This is going to get back the driest, nerdiest ideas ever, if you get any at all. Let me spice this up a little." A moment passed. "And your third sentence is a run-on."

T'Pol watched Trip intently as he manipulated the text on the PADD. After the death of their cloned daughter Elizabeth, she and Trip had both been overcome with grief. Trip had tried to help her through it as best he could by talking with her, but that hadn't seemed to work for her. Eventually she had turned back to her Vulcan heritage, suppressing the grief. Unfortunately, she had found that she could not suppress the grief alone, but needed to suppress all of her emotions. She had explained this to Trip and explained that she could not sustain an intimate relationship with him. He had taken it well and they had returned their relationship to the "friend" level, though she knew it had taken a significant effort on his part. He still shared many meals with her and their bantering had resumed. T'Pol firmly clamped down on herself whenever she found herself "missing" Trip, but her subconscious seemed to constantly be finding ways to make sure they spent time together. When she meditated, she sometimes heard his voice calling her "darlin'" though he never did that in reality any more.

The first draft of her report actually hadn't been as dry as the one she was having Trip review. However, she knew that it probably wouldn't get the kind of proposals the captain wanted. She went back through it and turned it into something the T'Pol of five years before would have written. She knew Trip would enjoy dissecting it, and that by giving him something so bad to start with, he would be inspired to "fix" it. She had added the "run-on" to see if he would recognize it.

Trip handed the PADD back to her.

_Are you tired of TPS reports and milk runs? Enterprise needs daring suggestions for bold missions. Submissions will be rated on their audacity, scientific potential and ability to bamboozle black shoe desk jockeys. Submit your proposals immediately to the Science Officer. Deadline: 1700 hours, March 15__th__, 2156._

After a digression into brown shoe and black shoe Navy, one "You've got to be kidding me", several raised eyebrows, and three rewrites later the following was posted to the ship's internal web:

_Wanted: To boldly go where no one has gone before. Please submit proposals for audacious and scientifically significant exploration missions for Enterprise. Proposals should use the full potential of Enterprise for research, discovery and expanding the frontiers of Coalition knowledge. Submit your proposals immediately to the Science Officer. Deadline: 1700 hours, March 15__th__, 2156._

1.5 hours later, the following revised version was posted:

_Wanted: To boldly go where no one has gone before. Please submit proposals for audacious and scientifically significant exploration missions for Enterprise. Proposals should use the full potential of Enterprise for research, discovery and expanding the frontiers of Coalition knowledge. Proposals for explorations within the Terran Solar System are not eligible (this means you Corporal Romero). Submit your proposals immediately to the Science Officer. Deadline: 1700 hours, March 15__th__, 2156._


	3. Cobbler Makes Anything Bearable

Chapter 3 – Cobbler Makes Anything Bearable

March 9, 2156 1908 hours – Enterprise mess en route to Andoria (Procyon VIII)

Trip entered the mess and looked around. Conversations were in progress all around the room. As expected, T'Pol was sitting alone at their usual table, sipping her tea with her meal on the table in front of her. He was sure that she had entered the mess at 1900 hours, plus or minus 10 seconds. He felt that pang of longing that he always got whenever he looked at her. Well, at least she was still his best friend.

He picked a vegetarian main course and a dish of Chef's special peach cobbler. Once a week he and Jon had Boy's Night where they would dig into a couple of big steaks without any raised eyebrows. It was a routine, and it wasn't perfect, but it wasn't terrible. It just…was.

"Good evening Commander. Is this seat taken?"

"No." The rest of the crew had long since learned that without a prior invitation for dinner they could expect a meal of the Vulcan silent treatment were they to usurp Trip's usual chair.

They ate in amiable silence. When they had finished their main dishes, Trip spoke up.

"Would you like some peach cobbler?"

"Perhaps. I'm rather full after that meal, though." But he knew she had skipped getting her own portion because she knew he would offer.

"There's always room for cobbler, my mama always says," said Trip as he scraped half onto her plate. He watched with a smile as she immediately took a small bite, and then took a bite of his own.

"How are the mission proposals coming?" asked Trip with his mouth full. "The crew seems pretty fired up about the idea. Get any good ones yet?"

"I have received 25 so far," replied T'Pol. after chewing daintily and swallowing. "A number of them meet the captain's requirements. One that you might be interested in was to perform a search for the builders of the automated repair station we encountered."

"Oh, now that would be interesting. I would love to get my hands on some of that technology. And I would really love to meet a species that would leave a repair station open for everyone just lying around. Though, their ethics did seem a little lacking in ways." He shoveled another bite of cobbler into his mouth.

"Kidnapping and enslaving customers would seem ethically dubious. I am curious if this was part of the station's original programming or if it initiated the action on its own. The interface that we dealt with did not seem intelligent enough to handle the functions of the station. I wonder if it was simply 'playing dumb' or if it had been damaged."

Trip got a thoughtful look, waving his spoon around. "Maybe…Hmmm…Try this on for size. The station computer core gets damaged – maybe some of the software gets corrupted along with its backups. The manager AI would have to be the most complex and therefore the most likely to get corrupted. The next ship that comes by is badly damaged and crewed by folks not exactly pure of heart. The captain said he saw a Klingon in there and he looked a little stale. The station makes a deal to leave one of theirs as an augmentation to the core in return for repairs. Now, we've got a Klingon brain running part of the back end, and it's easier to snatch and replicate bodies than it is to trade for crew members."

T'Pol finished chewing her bite of cobbler and swallowed. "That is a logical scenario, at least for such an unusual situation." She wrinkled her nose slightly. "The events would have made a good plot for one of those "B movies" you are so fond of subjecting us to on movie nights."

"Oh yeah – Invasion of the Brain Eating Mechanics. I'll have to look for something like that for our next movie night."

"Hopefully Chef will prepare more peach cobbler that evening. Then I will have something to look forward to."


	4. An Audacious Proposal

Chapter 4 – An Audacious Proposal

March 12, 2156 – 1432 hours – _Enterprise,_ T'Pol's office, en route to Andoria (Procyon VIII)

T'Pol was working diligently at her desk. On the large screen in front of her she had current sensor readings displayed, a cumulative analysis showing the projected Cochrane factor along _Enterprise_'s route along with the actual measured value, and the measured value within a quarter light year of _Enterprise's_ course. This analysis would help improve the speed of starships along the Earth-Andoria corridor, which was promising to become more heavily traveled as Earth-Andoria trade expanded and faster freighters were produced. On a PADD in her hand were notes for her latest research paper, "On Subspace Vortices and Closed Time-like Curves." She was planning to submit it to the Vulcan Science Academy and the Starfleet Journal of Astrophysics. She would not admit to herself the enjoyment she took in submitting time travel papers to the Academy, but this was her fourth. They had grudgingly published the previous three. Another PADD held her message queue, and bonged softly as new messages arrived. On the corner of her desk was a stack of PADDs with TPS reports on them.

After the initial flurry, serious mission proposals had been arriving at the rate of two to three per day. Non-serious proposals had dropped off rapidly after she had starting refusing anonymous messages. She was considering cutting off all further messages from the MACOs, though there had been one intriguing proposal from Corporal Cole. The remainder of the MACO proposals had focused on exotic destinations like "Solar surfaces at night" and "Tu mai'h shashol".

T'Pol had discussed that one with Commander Tucker after dinner. "Why would Private Palmer want us to explore my mother's territory?

"That doesn't make a lot of sense," Trip said.

"The actual message used the Vulcan words, _tu mai'h shashol_."

Trip punched the phrase into his PADD. "Hmmm…that literally translates to "You mother land" doesn't it? Oh. I think he meant 'Yo momma land'. Who taught the MACOs how to use a dictionary?"

"Please explain 'yo momma land.'" The meal went downhill from there.

At this point, T'Pol had narrowed the final candidates down to five. A long term study of the after effects of the Spheres on the Expanse, a search for the builders of the automated repair station they had encountered, a survey to circumnavigate and determine the true outline of Klingon space and evaluate their military potential (Corporal Cole's suggestion, and while not scientific in nature, it was a mission that only an NX class vessel could handle), a charting of neutronic storms across Coalition space, and a mission to find the Bajoran system, which was rumored to have a wormhole to a distant part of the galaxy.

There was a knock on her doorframe. Ensign Jane Spector, an exo-biologist, poked her head into T'Pol's office.

"Hi, Commander. Do you have a minute?"

Ensign Spector had just joined the crew when they left for Andoria. T'Pol found her work so far to be quite acceptable. The ensign was delighted to work with non-Humans on a daily basis and spent a large amount of time with Dr. Phlox learning about his experiences with various species. She was planning to do field research on Andoria while the _Enterprise _waited for the politicians to complete their junket.

T'Pol looked up and answered, "Please, come in."

"It's about the mission proposals. I have an idea, but it's a little far out there, so I wanted to bring it by in person."

T'Pol put the PADD on the desk. "I am interested to hear it. As Commander Tucker might say, 'I am all ears.'" This earned her a quizzical look from the ensign, who then shook her head as though dismissing an odd thought.

She started hesitantly, obviously nervous, "Well, here's my idea. I reviewed _Enterprise's _reports while I was finishing my post-doc. Before the Xindi mission _Enterprise_ was supposed to be doing exploration, and a lot of interesting discoveries were made, but it seemed to be a bit of a muddle. A little time in one place, back to Earth, off to somewhere else, and so forth. A first contact here, some astrophysics there, you get my drift?"

T'Pol nodded. "I believe so. _Enterprise's_ original missions were planned in an ad hoc fashion. Starfleet's planners were not expecting to meet as many star faring species as were encountered. The results were something of a 'monkey's breakfast', as Lieutenant Reed observed at the time."

Jane got a gleam in her eye and continued more enthusiastically. "We're basically a mobile science lab, and we can take on multiple tasks at once. What we need, though, is an overarching structure for what we're doing. Now, in field biology we sometimes do what's called a "transect", where you go in a straight line and take samples and records as you go. It gives you a statistical profile of whatever you're sampling – in biology it's usually things like the species present, or the density of a particular species. You don't stop to dig into things, you just record and go. It lets you get a feel for the big picture before you start getting caught in the details. Usually a transect is small scale - you walk across a meadow or a forest - but back at the end of the twentieth century a man named Michael Fay walked across Africa on what he called a mega-transect, so I'm thinking we would do something similar."

"I am familiar with the concept. So, you are proposing that we make a transect of Coalition space?"

Jane took a deep breath. "We would start in Coalition space, but I think we should go straight out from Earth, two and a half years at warp five, surveying and sampling and then come back. A five-year mission. At the mid-point of our mission we'd be over 300 light years away from Earth, a true voyage of discovery."

T'Pol looked thoughtful. "Your proposal is indeed audacious, and I believe it has the potential to be scientifically significant as well. Furthermore, no species that we have been in contact with has made an expedition that far from the home worlds. I will add it to the list. Thank you for your suggestion, Ensign."

Ensign Spector left. T'Pol picked up the PADD with the suggestion list on it. She found the latest suggestion to be very logical, and knew it would appeal to the captain as well for its adventurousness. She bumped the search for Bajor off the top five and put "Giga-transect" in the number one position.


	5. Do Vulcans Wear Buckskin?

Chapter 5 – Do Vulcans Wear Buckskin?

March 16, 2156 1705 – _Enterprise_ Bridge and Ready Room, en route to Andoria (Procyon VIII)

Phlox and Trip exited the turbo-lift together while the bridge crew was in the process of handing over the watch to the beta crew. Deep space was routine, so the handover did not take much time. As usual, the bridge was somewhat hushed. Phlox was always amazed that humans could be so rambunctious and ebullient one minute and so serious and quiet the next. Denobulans could never interact in such different ways.

Each watchstander efficiently took over their station, changing settings to their own preferences. Lieutenant Donna O'Neill was in charge of beta shift, as she had been for several years.

"D.O., you have the conn," said Archer he got up.

"I have the conn, sir," replied O'Neill, seating herself in the command chair. "You look like it's Christmas morning, sir," she observed, swiveling the chair to watch him as he walked towards the ready room door.

Archer smiled back at her. "Oh, this is going to be better than Christmas, D.O.! I know I'm not going to get any socks."

There was an air of excitement among the senior staff as they entered the ready room. T'Pol had distributed her top five candidates to them that morning via email.

Archer had reviewed the proposals with enthusiasm. It hadn't taken him long to figure out which one he wanted. It was going to take a lot of teamwork to turn it into a full-fledged proposal he could bring to Admiral Gardner. He now needed to get everyone on the senior staff aligned and on-board.

Command school taught that one way of getting staff support was to get everyone's input first, then make the decision. Or, at least appear to make the decision after getting input. Jon tended towards the latter. So, time to get input.

Archer sat down, looked over everyone and started speaking. "Commander T'Pol, thank you for collecting and organizing the proposals. I think the five candidates you selected are all interesting. If everyone has had a chance to review them, I'd like to get everyone's input on the different proposals. Travis, let's start with you."

Travis looked uncomfortable taking on such a big issue. He hesitated a bit. "Well, neutronic storms have always been a big problem for cargo ships. If we could start getting a better idea of when they're going to hit it would be a big help. But, I don't know that _Enterprise_ is the right ship to make that kind of a survey. Maybe a ship with a bigger storm cellar. Out of the rest, I think the "giga-transect" idea is the best. It sounds like what we were supposed to be doing in the beginning. I'm getting a little itchy staying in the same sector of space all the time."

Archer nodded. "OK. Thanks. Travis. Hoshi, what do you think?"

Hoshi didn't hesitate. She tapped her finger on her PADD. "I like the giga-transect idea. It has the most opportunity for first contacts and new languages and cultures."

_This is going to be easier than I expected_, Archer thought._ Or maybe we're just all on the same wavelength after all these years._

"Thanks, Hoshi" he said. "Malcolm, how about you?"

"I'd like to get a good look at the Klingon Empire. That gets my vote."

"You just think you'll get to blow something up on that trip," interjected Tucker.

"Shush, Trip," said Archer. "Wait your turn. Thank you, Malcolm. Doctor?"

Phlox said "Captain, you and I still have bounties on our heads in the Klingon Empire. I'm not a coward, but I see no reason to give those ungrateful Klingons a chance to capture us again. I can support any of the other mission proposals."

Archer unconsciously rubbed his forehead, fingering where the ridges grown by Antaak's virus had been. "Yes, our last visit to the Klingon Empire was quite the fun fest wasn't it? OK, Trip, now it's your turn."

Trip said, "All right. Well, I like the search for the repair station builders, but it's probably a long shot. I say we go with the giga-transect. Though, we need to come up with a better name for it. Need something with a little zing to get the admirals excited."

Archer was enjoying this round of input. "Thank you, Trip. T'Pol?"

T'Pol said, "I ordered the proposals according to my own ranking of them. I believe the giga-transect offers the most opportunity for scientific discovery as well as the best possibility of finding new members for the Coalition. Furthermore, the Xindi experience has shown us that just because we do not know of a danger does not mean it is not present. Searching for possible dangers is therefore the logical course of action."

Archer nodded. "Thank you. Malcolm, I'm sorry, but I'm inclined towards the giga-transect as well so that's what we're going to start planning for."

"That's OK, sir. I'm sure we'll find something to blow up no matter what we do." Malcolm replied with a sheepish smile.

Archer chuckled. "T'Pol, I like the basic idea but I want to modify it a bit. Instead of making an out and back trip following the same course, let's make it more of a triangle. Figure 250 light years out, 50 light years across, and then 250 light years back. We'll want to build in time for side trips, minor exploration, and some R&R as well. We should probably start with an offset as well, so that our warp trail doesn't point right back at the heart of the Coalition."

T'Pol replied, "Taking the same return course would reduce our risk. We would know what dangers to avoid and where we could resupply."

Archer shook his head. "I think the risk is worth it. And familiarity doesn't mean safe. Captain Cook got killed when he returned to Hawaii, not when he first visited. Let's plan it as a triangle course."

T'Pol lowered her head in acquiescence. "Very well, Captain. We will also need to select a region to explore."

Archer sighed. "That's going to be a political question as well. You and I will draw up a list of possible regions and we'll have to discuss it as part of the proposal process with Starfleet. In the meantime, I'd like each department to start planning out what they would need to complete a five-year mission. Our experience has been that we can usually find someplace to resupply, but that's not guaranteed. We also need to bring some trade goods. I don't want to be melting down spare parts again."

He tapped on the PADD in front of him. "T'Pol, let's schedule a follow-up meeting for a week from now. I'd like all departments to have a first pass at their requirements ready for that. Thank you, everyone. I'm excited! If we can get this by Starfleet, this will be one hell of a trip."

Malcolm was introspective for a moment. He said, "This will be a voyage of discovery. Something to rank up there with Cook or Magellan. I'll be very proud to make this journey, Captain."

Travis spoke up, "I'd like us to be more like Lewis and Clark"

Trip grinned and said, "Well, we have you, Mr. Mayweather, and that sounds pretty close to Meriwether. And you can imagine T'Pol as Sacagawea easily enough, though the ears don't quite fit."

Travis said, "Well, I was thinking about something a little more practical. Nobody died on the Lewis and Clark expedition."

Sobered slightly, the meeting adjourned.

Shortly thereafter an announcement was posted on the ship web. Ensign Spector also received a short note.

_Ensign Spector,_

_Thank you for your proposal. It was deemed acceptable._

_Cdr. T'Pol_


	6. Bury Me Not on the Lone Prairie

Chapter 6 – Bury Me Not on the Lone Prairie

_Warning – the language in this chapter gets a little salty at the end. If that offends you, well, cover your eyes._

March 30, 2156 0915 – Enterprise, in orbit around Andoria (Procyon VIII)

The remainder of the trip to Andoria had gone smoothly. After handing off the representatives to their Andorian handlers at the port airlock, Archer breathed a sigh of relief. Although he had been spending a lot of time with politicians the last few years, he was always a little uncomfortable around them. He was used to pilots and engineers, people who didn't butter you up but said what they felt. He liked straightforward people who you could trust to be honest, even if they didn't always say what you wanted to hear. He knew the politicians acted friendly, and handed out praise and compliments easily but that could change in an instant as soon as he wasn't useful to them or became a liability.

Andoria was a planet full of straightforward people. They weren't always friendly but you didn't have to worry about them stabbing you in the back. No, an Andorian would come right up and plant the blade in the middle of your chest. And then offer you some Andorian ale as a chaser.

He was looking forward to seeing Shran. Sober, Shran was like that drunk guy at the bar who could go from "I love you man" to taking a swing at you in seconds. Drunk, there was no human counterpart. Underneath, though, his strong sense of honor and willingness to listen had endeared him to Jon. His habit of showing up when the chips were down was endearing as well. The insults, well, at least they were handed out equally to everyone.

There was a slight bump as the representatives' shuttle disengaged.

Archer went to his quarters to pick up his over night bag and a large shopping bag full of bottles. It was time Shran learned some respect for Terran libations. He gave Porthos a pat and said, "The doc will be by to look after you. Be a good boy. See you tomorrow."

He walked to the door and keyed the communicator. "Archer to Mayweather. Travis, are you ready to fly me down?"

"Yes sir," came the reply. "I'm waiting in launch bay 1."

"OK, I'll be down in a minute."

Walking down to the launch bay, he was pleased to see the crew bustling about. The new mission was just barely into the planning stages but it seemed to be giving the crew a new sense of purpose. "A busy ship is a happy ship," he thought to himself. He picked up a parka, heated coverall and heated boots from the clothing locker near the launch bay.

Travis was waiting for him at the top of the ladder to the shuttlepod, parka draped over his arm.

"Going to see Commander Shran, sir?" he asked.

"Yep. I owe him a gift."

Travis looked in the bag. "Looks more like you cleaned out a liquor shop."

Archer laughed. "Let's get this show on the road."

Andoria is a moon of Procyon VIII, a ringed gas giant reminiscent of Saturn. Enterprise was in orbit around Andoria, in its usual attitude with the moon "above" in relation to the ship. The docking tube released and Travis performed a deft barrel roll around Enterprise. Jon and Travis watched the bigger ship through the front viewport as Travis manipulated the controls.

"I really love that ship," said Archer.

"Me too," said Travis. "I've always lived on a ship and Enterprise is the snazziest."

"You ever miss the Horizon?" asked Archer.

"Sometimes. I miss my family. But I wouldn't trade anything for piloting Enterprise. At least until we come up with a faster ride."

They both laughed. Shuttlepod 1 sped ahead of Enterprise, entering a lower orbit. Andoria spread out before them in a great expanse of blue and white.

"The weather report says Laibok has blizzard conditions. Hope you're ready for winter, Captain."

"Actually, it only snows during the summer. In the winter it's so cold, all of the oceans freeze over."

"Let's not visit in the winter, then," Travis said as adjusted the shuttlepod's attitude.

"You don't have to worry about that. It's going to be summer for another fifty Earth years."

Travis looked over at Archer in surprise. "Is the orbit that eccentric? I didn't check the plot that carefully."

"Andoria swings out beyond where Pluto would be during the winter."

"How could anything live here?"

Archer pointed out through the glass. "See that big stretch of blue coming up? Take us inverted so we can get a better look."

Travis dutifully rolled the shuttlepod over and the white expanse of Andoria spread out above them and then gave way to a great tangle of blue vegetation.

Archer took a quick look at the navigation panel. "That's the Lor'Tan rift coming up. There are six great rifts and they extend down far enough that the bottoms are hot enough to boil water, year round. Between the heat from the bottom and the heat the gas giant puts out, it stays warm enough in the rifts for animal life. Pretty dark, though, in the winter. That's why Andorians have those antennae."

"So the plants don't go spread too far from the rifts for the warmth?" The shuttlepod sped past the far edge of the blue and the landscape was just ice again. Travis rolled the shuttlepod back upright and engaged the autopilot.

"That, and nutrients. Not a lot on top of the ice; all of the plants you see are actually rooted down in the rift. In the winter, everything dies back and the only life is down at the bottom of the rifts." Archer showed Travis some pictures of the native life on a PADD.

"What a place. And Andorians are really native to this world?"

"As far as anyone knows. It explains why they're so tough. Andoria's not really a niche for life, it's more like a loophole."

It was snowing heavily at Laibok, the capital city. It only snows during the summer on Andoria; during the winter even the salty seas freeze over and the air becomes bone dry. Travis made an instrument only approach, coordinating with air traffic control. The conditions outside were a total whiteout.

Travis set them down on the landing pad at the co-ordinates specified by ATC. They could see Shran standing next to the pad, with a hover car behind him. He wore just his black uniform without a coat. Shran's antenna had grown back completely. Jon and Travis donned their parkas and turned the heating elements inside up to full power.

They opened the hatch and snow flurried inside. Shran walked over and stuck his head in. "Archer! You made it! And Travis, my non-pink pink skin friend, it's good to see you!"

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world, Shran" said Archer.

"It's good to see you too, Commander," said Travis.

"Travis, are you coming too? You look like you could use a drink!" bellowed Shran.

"No, thank you sir. I'm driving. I'll pick you up tomorrow, Captain?"

"Yes, thanks Travis. I'll call the ship and set a time in the afternoon. After I wake up."

They said goodbye to Travis and watched the shuttlepod take off and disappear into the white a few meters above their heads. Archer had pulled his hood over his head as soon as he exited the shuttlepod.

Shran laughed at him. "Come on, pink skin, we'll get you inside, you hothouse flower. This is the warmest part of the day!"

Jon breathed a sigh of relief inside the hover car. Shran said "Normally, I would have walked over here but I thought your feet might be too tender to make it to the city entrance so I checked this out."

Jon laughed. "It's not my feet that worry me. These boots are heated. I think my nose is ready to freeze off, though."

Laughing, they steered for the entrance.

After returning the hover car to the port staff, they walked down the ramp into the underground city of Laibok. This was the great city of Andoria, home to 20 million Andorians, built into the cliff walls of the great Shabat rift. They walked down a wide corridor, with high ceilings and wide floor-to-ceiling windows inset between columns on the left giving a view down inside the rift. To their right were shops and restaurants.

Plants grew from the rift floor, up the three kilometer cliff faces, then spread out across the ice, hungrily grabbing the rays from the twin suns when the skies were clear. Herded away from the transparent aluminum onto the columns where they crossed the windows here, tendrils of blue could be seen trying to encroach onto the transparent areas. Only continual action kept the windows clear and they passed a team on a work platform outside blasting the plants off the windows with low power phase guns. Snow came down around them as they worked outside in their shirtsleeves.

Archer went over and pressed his forehead against the window, trying to see down to the rift floor.

"Quite a view, eh? It's over 100 Celsius down there! You can't see the bottom most days for the steam coming up. Come on, it's not much further," urged Shran.

They turned right down into a smaller corridor then came to a turbolift lobby. They got into a turbolift. Shran punched a code in and waved a fob in front of a reader and they went down, down, down so fast Archer's ears popped.

"How far down are we going?" he asked Shran.

"About 2000 of your meters more or less. It's got a great view."

The turbolift slowed and opened on to a residential corridor, not nearly as tall or wide as the commercial corridor they had walked through above. They walked a couple of dozen meters down the corridor to a door and Shran waved his fob at another reader. The door slid open smoothly and they walked inside. Shran sat down on a stool just inside the door. "You take your shoes off, you barbarian," roared Shran as Jon looked around for a moment in confusion. They both laughed again and Jon sat down on the other stool and pulled his boots off. Shran showed him the guest room and he stowed his bag.

"Jhamel went home for the week. We're trying to open up better relations between the Aenar and us blueskins and she's the best candidate for the job. When I go along I roar and cuss and scare all of those gentle people so she goes by herself now. She said to say hello and sends her love." He poked Jon in the chest. "Don't read too much into that, I'll kill you if I catch you sniffing around her."

He motioned Archer towards the door. "Since she's gone, we're eating delivery tonight. It should be here soon. Come on, I'll show you the rest of the place."

The rest of the "place" was on two levels. Both levels ended at a two story great room with a stairway from the second level down to the first on the inward side and a two story tall window of transparent aluminum on the rift side. There were comfortable chairs and tables and a fireplace set into the wall with a blazing gas fire in it.

Jon had put on a sweater after putting his parka away and was almost warm enough. Shran tossed him a blanket. "Here, I turned the heat up as far as I can stand. I always sweat like a pig on your ship."

Jon looked out the window for a moment thoughtfully.

"You get sun through these windows when it's not overcast, don't you?"

"Yes, of course, why else would you have windows?" replied Shran.

"I thought you said once that you didn't see the sun until you were fifteen," queried Archer.

Shran scowled at him. "I exaggerated for effect, obviously. However, my family was poor when I was growing up and our dwelling was much deeper into the rift walls and didn't have any windows. And I really didn't go out on the surface until I was fifteen."

He plopped down in a chair. "The Imperial Guard lets you keep a percentage of any enemy shipping you capture. I bought this place with the proceeds I got after taking a Tellarite freighter full of deuterium. It was as big as one of their fat wives." He chuckled then frowned. "Hmmm, I suppose now that we're all allies I shouldn't say things like that. I never got to spend much time here before but now I have a desk job and Jhamel has really made it into a home."

The food came and they opened the cartons and put them out on the table. There was Andorian red bat and draak and Andorian spice bread. Archer reached into his bag of drinks and pulled out a cold six pack of Samuel Adams Boston Lager in an insulated pouch. "I think beer will go well with red bat. It's not very strong but we don't want to be falling out of our chairs too soon. You can drink it straight out of the bottle or you can use a glass if you're a wimp." He pulled out a traditional bottle opener and popped a couple of bottles.

They talked about their ships and the worlds they'd seen. Jon explained the giga-transect concept to Shran.

"Sounds like you're trying to get away from headquarters to me," observed Shran.

"You're right, but I also want to get back to being an explorer. I never wanted to be a warrior."

"You've done all right. I always wanted to be a warrior myself"

"What did the early Andorian explorers do? Did they make sailing ships to explore the seas?"

"No! There's not much worthwhile to reach from the seas and they're salty and deadly. They didn't have any effete toys like your 'sailing ships'. They walked. Uphill through the snow! And pulled sleds. And died." He brightened and raised his bottle. "Here's to the explorers!" he toasted and clanked his bottle against Jon's. Jon drank with him.

"That's quite a trip you're planning. Think you'll make it back?" Shran asked.

"I hope so. At least we don't have to worry about things like scurvy or eating our shoes these days," Jon said.

Shran was thoughtful for a moment. "How much antimatter are you taking along for this trip? Enough to go out and back?"

"Well, we haven't done all the calculations but off hand I figured about a ton."

"That's a lot. Tell you what. You find yourself in one of those no-win situations out there and you light the whole warp core off at once. I'll leave instructions in my will for my great, great, great, whatever grandchildren to drink a toast to you when you light up the sky here. It'll be the long night and they'll need something to do."

Jon gave him a shocked look for a second and then roared with laughter. Shran was just too much.

"OK," said Shran. "We're done with dinner and now it's time for the serious drinking. No more of this wimpy beer stuff, though it did go well with the red bat. What did you bring that's got more of a punch to it?"

Jon reached into the bag and pulled out a red box. He opened it and pulled out a bottle. "We're going to start with the good stuff while we can still taste it. This is a single malt whiskey from Scotland, that's a part of Earth. This is 18 years old and was aged in wooden casks made from oak that had previously had sherry aged in them."

"So, it's some kind of a hand-me-down mix?" Shran asked quizzically.

"No, no, that's a good thing. Try it and see."

He poured Shran and himself generous portions. They raised their glasses. "To fallen comrades" said Jon. "To fallen comrades" echoed Shran and they drank.

"That's pretty good, pink skin," said Shran.

They continued on for a bit. After putting the rest of the scotch away for Shran to keep, Jon pulled out some 181 proof rum and had Shran take just a sip so he could laugh at him, then cut it with a can of Coca Cola he pulled out of the bag. They sipped their drinks and looked at the fire for a while.

After a bit, Jon said to Shran "How do you do it?"

"Do what?" asked Shran, taking another sip.

"Keep going." He paused, looking into the fire. "I dream and I'm back on the bridge and there's torpedoes hitting us and disruptor fire and the hull plating's failing and fires are popping out around us and reports are coming in of people dying all over the ship. I see my crew, my friends, falling around me, but I can't go to help them because if I don't keep the orders coming, if I don't figure some way out of it we're all going to die and if we die we fail and if we fail everyone on Earth will die. And then the bridge explodes and I wake up and I'm back in my bunk."

Shran shrugged. "But you didn't fail. You went out there and you succeeded."

Archer said, "We almost succeeded. If you hadn't shown up to pull our nuts out of the fire it might have all gone wrong."

Shran looked at him. "Oh, I have faith in you Jon. You would have thought of something. Though, I must admit, it was excellent timing on my part." He took another sip of his rum and coke. "You say this whole damn drink is made out of sugar?" he asked.

Jon wasn't ready to be led back to lighter subjects. "But what about next time. If I'm in that situation again, will I be able to do it?"

Shran looked at the fire. "I know what you mean. There aren't a lot of people who've been where you and I have been. With your ship crumbling around you and your crew blown out through hull breaches, tumbling away into the void. With your shipmates, closer than friends, more like family, dead around you. And still you have to be strong, be smart, ignore the dead and wounded and bring the ship through. And when you come back, you know you could have been smarter, that you made mistakes and that if you had been better, they wouldn't have died. When you come back and you close your eyes you see them and you tell yourself you weren't good enough, that you failed them."

"Yes," said Jon.

"Well, we Andorians brag and bluster. You tell everyone else often enough how smart you were and how brave you were and how well you did and maybe you'll start to believe it yourself." Shran looked off to the side at something only he could see. "Or, that's the theory anyhow. The Vulcans, they're like robots. You cut them and they bleed but they don't _feel_."

Jon thought about T'Pol, fighting the ship without him after he'd left the crew behind to go on his suicide mission. And he knew that he should have had the courage to send Travis or Trip or even T'Pol ahead to try to blow up the Xindi weapon and if he had, maybe together they would have been able to fight the ship better than she had alone and get more of the crew home. And he knew that T'Pol had felt the loss of each crewman, the corpses tumbling out into the void and the dark or laid out on the floor in sickbay. And he knew the cost she had paid. But now wasn't the time to explain Vulcans to Shran.

Shran continued. "You pink skins, you're more like us Andorians. You feel things. I know you don't brag and bluster about it but maybe just talking about it with someone who's been there would help. How about some more of that rum?"

So Jon poured them each another drink and he told Shran about it, about going out into the Expanse and torturing the pirate in the air lock. About Azati Prime and the useless suicide mission and then being tortured by the Xindi Reptilians.

"But, I have to brag on that part," he said to Shran. "I spit right in their eyes and laughed and told them what a bunch of clowns they were!"

"That's the way to brag, pink skin! We'll make an Andorian out of you yet! Pour me another drink."

Jon kept on, explaining about coming back to a broken and battered Enterprise. The story kept pouring out of him, the deaths and the stress, and turning pirate to get the parts they needed to keep going. The Enterprise from the past, and losing them. Rescuing Hoshi and then badgering her, forcing her to keep working after she'd been tortured, because she had the skills and he didn't. And another suicide mission to stop the Xindi weapon after Shran had gotten them close enough to transport on board. The fight onboard and the weapon exploding.

Shran stopped him. "About that weapon. Did those scans ever turn into anything useful? That would be a hell of a deterrent to anyone coming to mess with us."

"It's only a deterrent if they believe it actually would work. You'd have to go blow up a world for them as an example. Anyway, you can't build one. We don't have the technology to make the power source. Have you got any idea how much energy that thing would need?"

"Quite a bit, I suppose, but the Xindi pulled it off…" mused Shran.

"It makes a warp core look like a penny candle. The Guardians, those beings from another dimension, gave Degra the power source. It siphoned power through an inter-dimensional rift. They only gave him two, one for the prototype and one for the full-scale weapon he built. Without a way to power it, the plans just get you a big rotating piece of clockwork."

"Pity. I suppose it's better no one has one. But all that power…" he trailed off. "So, what happened next? After the weapon blew up all of your people on Degra's ship told me you had blown up with it. I never did hear how you got out of there."

Jon thought about his pledge to Daniels but he was pretty drunk and he trusted Shran. He swore Shran to secrecy and then told him about winding up in the past and how the rest of the Enterprise crew had come back in time with him and the temporal cold war. He went back and talked about how they had been sent to Detroit and got the parts back from there that convinced Degra that he was on the level, along with the clan badge from the future.

Shran said, "Oh come on. I'm not that gullible pink skin! If you didn't want to tell me you could have just said 'It's a secret'"

"No shit, it really happened."

"It's your story, keep going. All I can say is I've been flying a ship for a long time and I have never had any time travel and it sounds like you've been doing it every other week."

They drank and Jon talked and finally it was all out. And Shran looked at him and said, "Damn. I never heard the whole story before. But you got them home. You got the ship home."

Jon said, "I did. But can I do it again? I don't know how to do it again. And I may have to. We don't know what we'll find out there. Can I bring the ship through? You've got a lot more combat experience than I do. How do you do it?"

Shran looked into his glass, pensive. "When it starts, you have to stop being you. You become the ship. And the ship is strong and the ship will get everyone through. And when you look around the bridge, you can't see the people, you can't see your friends. You have to see the stations. When someone falls, someone else will step up to their station. And the ship will go on. And you're the ship until you've gotten through it and everyone is safe." He changed, mercurial as always and smiled. "Or, you fuck up, and everyone dies." And he laughed and threw his glass into the fireplace, smashing it against the back wall.

Jon laughed too. Then he thought for a moment. "There's an old tradition, we inherited it from the wet Navy. When you're the command officer of a ship, you're referred to as the ship in communications. If someone wants to talk to me, they don't ask for Captain Archer, they ask for Enterprise Actual. Maybe now I see where that comes from."

"Maybe you do pink skin, maybe you do."

"Thanks for listening Shran. And now, I think it's time for our final drink."

He reached into the bag and pulled out a small red bottle and a big bottle full of an amber liquid. He opened the small red bottle. "Here, take a sniff"

"What the fuck is this?" said Shran, as he recoiled from the sharp, vinegary smell.

"That's Tabasco sauce. It's not alcoholic but it's a key part of the drink. Go get me a couple of clean glasses."

Shran returned with the glasses. Jon shook Tabasco sauce into the bottom of the glasses somewhat unsteadily.

"Now, this is tequila. It's made from something called an agave plant. Never mind what the hell that is. There's better tequila but I knew by the time we got to this we'd be too drunk to appreciate it. Next time I'll bring you some better stuff."

He poured tequila into the glasses. "This drink is called a prairie dog. I usually save them for last because the only time you would order one of these…"

Shran finished for him, "Is when you're too damned drunk to know better."

They slammed the drinks and staggered off to bed.

_Author's note: I edited this for the Triaxian Silk republication and changed the original notes on Andoria into more of a discussion between Archer and Travis as they fly to Laibok._


	7. Publish or Perish, Professor

Chapter 7 – You Thought Publish or Perish Was Rhetoric, Professor?

_1 year and 3 months earlier…._

Jan 11, 2155 1115 – The Proconsul's office, Romulus

Proconsul Tamman was second only to the Praetor in the Empire. He was first member of the Senate, presiding over all routine meetings when the Praetor did not attend and first commander of the Galae s'Shiar, the Fleet of the Empire. His loyalty to the Praetor was absolute; he had always supported the Praetor through his long ascension to the top, carrying out many of the dirty deeds that had enabled that ascension. At 147 years of age he was in late middle age for a Romulan. He had held his present post for 35 years, ever since the current Praetor had taken his position.

His office was stark and functional; bare concrete walls lined with bookcases containing vintage texts. There were no other decorations. He belonged to the old ways, of utility and honor. He and the Praetor did not always see eye to eye on utility, the Praetor being fonder of creature comforts, but on all else they were agreed. He was seated at his desk, reviewing a document on the Romulan equivalent of a PADD, making notes on it periodically.

The Proconsul continued working as his secretary ushered Admiral Makkar into the office. Admiral Makkar was young for his position, at 82. He was a rising star in the Fleet and Tamman had nurtured him.

The Proconsul looked up once his secretary had left and closed the door. He wasted no time on greetings. "Well Makkar? It's been 3 months since you took over from Valdore. Are there any improvements in the drone ship program or do I need to have you shot too?" Tamman gave a small smile to Makkar to show that he was joking – at least a little. Makkar considered the Proconsul his mentor and friend, but knew that friendship was little shield against failure.

"Yes, there have been some positive developments in the drone ship program. I have removed a major stumbling block." Makkar grinned back, fiercely.

"You have? What did you do?"

"I had Nijil taken out and shot," replied Makkar.

Nijil had been the chief scientist on the drone program and had developed the remote telepresence system that worked with the Aenar telepaths, that blind, white, eerie subspecies of the Andorians. The telepaths were not only difficult to obtain, they were difficult to train, being abject pacifists. It took much cruel training and drugs to get them to pilot a warship.

"Really?" asked the Proconsul calmly. "Valdore told me many, many times that he was the key to the whole project."

"Valdore was a fool and did not pay enough attention to what Nijil was really doing. Nijil was fixated on controlling the ships with a single pilot, a telepath. Tell me, Tamman, you have experience with many warships. Have you ever seen a warship with only a single crewman?"

"Well, no." The Proconsul looked a little thoughtful. How had he let Valdore and Nijil slip that one past him? He was usually better at poking holes in stupid theories. Must have been the telepathy part that seemed so different.

"Only a telepath has the mental bandwidth to monitor and control all of the systems of the ship by themselves. However, there is no need to have a single pilot for a ship. We can have a crew working, using regular controls, over a remote link. Nijil, as many scientists do, emphasized the perfect over the adequate," Makkar spat out. The scientist had driven him nuts with his impractical approach. He continued. "He had convinced most of the technical staff of the soundness of this course. The more I talked with Nijil, the more I became convinced he was out of touch with reality. I tasked a couple of smart young officers with digging through the program with an eye towards practicality and the results convinced me that Nijil was no longer an asset. The technical staff has been cooperating with alacrity since Nijil was eliminated."

"Well, that sounds like good news. What is the status of the project, then."

"I've started a team on the design for a new drone. It will be small and designed from the ground up for remote control. No power diverted to grav plating or inertial compensators. It will be both more maneuverable and pack more armaments than a similar sized manned vehicle. They should be less expensive to produce as well."

"That sounds too good to be true. Where's the fly in this soup?" The Proconsul was too experienced to believe there were no tradeoffs.

Makkar was honest with him, a quality that had endeared him to the Proconsul. "There are two drawbacks to the drones. First, without a crew, there will be no repairs during battle. Second, they cannot be deployed independently. The other advantage of a telepath is they are able to work better with data loss. That allowed us control the drone ship from here. With standard computer links, we'll have to be within a light year or so of the target. I'm proposing a carrier vessel with room for all of the control staff, controlling 20 or so drones. We can convert a freighter or a warbird to start and if we continue, we could consider making a purpose built vessel."

Tamman allowed himself a fierce grin. "I'm glad I gave this over to you Makkar. I love the smell of practical. What about tracing the signals back to the control ship or jamming them?"

"No one has found a way to jam subspace signals. They can be traced but we can control the drones through several relays. As long as we have the time to deploy the relays first the control ship should be able to avoid detection."

"But as soon as the first relay is destroyed, we will loose control of the drones," objected Tamman.

"No, we'll just boost the output on the next relay. We'll be deploying them within much less than their maximum range. If we chose the power settings and locations properly we should be able to force anyone trying to trace the control signals to work through the relays one by one."

Tamman considered for a moment, weighing priorities in his head and considering how the drone program would benefit the Empire. Quickly, he came to a decision. "Very well. I'll see that you get more resources for construction and allocate you a warbird for the first control ship. I think having a control ship that can fight back will be better than a stodgy freighter, don't you?"

"I quite agree Proconsul. Thank you for your support. Given full funding we should have the first drone ready in six months and a complete wing ready of 20 within a year."

"Good. I'm glad you have taken firm control of the project and oriented it in the right direction. I'll expect monthly progress reports." Tamman turned back to the document he had been reviewing. Makkar, used to the Proconsul's ways, left quietly.


	8. You Are What You Eat

Chapter 8 - You Are What You Eat

April 3, 2156 1900 – Enterprise, in orbit around Andoria (Procyon VIII)

Archer had survived his epic hangover and had been functional enough on Thursday to attend the negotiations that he had been assigned to complete. He knew, of course, that Andorians did not have the concept of April Fool's day but he mentally held his breath the next couple of days until Saturday morning when an Andorian lighter delivered ten large, unmarked shipping containers. The negotiations and equipment were top secret even from the crew so far. Trip and T'Pol were in the need to know group but he decided to save the news until their scheduled dinner that evening.

Trip and T'Pol arrived on time and they were all seated in the Captain's Mess. The steward brought in their meals: Hunan style deep fried rock cod with spicy sauce and rice for Jon, vegetable lasagna for T'Pol and catfish (of course) for Trip. Trip asked the steward for some Tabasco but was told they were out.

They began eating. Jon asked T'Pol, "How are the logistics projections coming, T'Pol?"

She paused in dissecting the lasagna. "I believe we will be able to make the transect without requiring resupply. However, I have been reviewing Chef's spreadsheets and we do not have sufficient storage space for all of the foodstuffs he wishes to bring. If we follow his planning we will have dry foods stored in the hallways for the first year."

Archer savored a bite of cod before responding. "Well, what's the alternative? I really want us to be prepared to be self sufficient on this trip. I would hate to turn back because we ran out of food."

T'Pol looked at him levelly. "Vulcan missions have extended for many years without huge amounts of food simply through the use of hydroponics and recycling via the protein resequencers. Enterprise' recycling capabilities are completely adequate to feed the crew indefinitely."

Trip had been quiet but now made gagging noises. "Oh, don't get me started on 'toilet to table,' T'Pol. Tastes like crap because it is crap. Crew morale will go straight into the, well, toilet,'" he said.

She took a bite of lasagna, chewed completely and swallowed before responding, "It is completely illogical. The output of the protein resequencers is completely sanitary and acceptably palatable. Perhaps if I led a seminar for the crew detailing the recycling steps and how there is no possibility of fecal material actually contaminating the final product they would be more receptive."

"No matter how many seminars you hold, the answer is still going to be 'yuck'. We all know where the input is coming from."

"Indeed. And yet, you are consuming that catfish with apparent pleasure."

"Well, it's catfish. There's nothing wrong with it. I know this didn't come out of the resequencer."

"I am not an expert on edible fish, but I have read that catfish is known as a "bottom feeder," scavenging food from riverbeds and it is not a discriminate feeder."

Jon was rapt. He could see where T'Pol's logic was going, though it seemed that Trip was a step behind. He used his chopsticks to eat another piece of cod. Erika Hernandez had introduced him to it at a restaurant in San Francisco when they were last in port and it had rapidly become a favorite of his. Chef had gotten it just right. Must have gotten the recipe through some kind of culinary espionage.

Trip speared a piece of catfish with his fork and popped it into his mouth. "Well, I like it. What's your point?"

She unhurriedly cut another piece of lasagna, chewed and swallowed. Trip stewed. Oh, she knew exactly what she was doing thought Archer. "My point is that many sewers discharge into rivers; many, to this day, in North America, with little or no treatment. Therefore, logically, that, " she pointed to Trip's catfish with her fork, "may well have consumed human fecal material during its lifetime."

Jon was enjoying this one. Definitely T'Pol was ahead on points so far.

Trip spluttered a bit. "It's not the same!"

T'Pol raised her eyebrow. "Really?"

"No! This is natural. People feel OK about eating it." Catfish was sacred to Trip. Bottom feeders indeed!

"You are saying that it is an emotional response and therefore illogical."

"Well, maybe it is. And it's because you wouldn't know an emotion if it came up and bit you that I have to be the morale officer on this ship and worry about how all of us illogical humans FEEL."

T'Pol stiffened slightly. The temperature in the little room seemed to drop ten degrees. Mentally, Jon kicked himself. He should have stopped this one a little earlier. He wasn't quite sure how to fix it, though. Well, it _was_ their mess. Maybe they should fix it. He took his spoon and spread a little sauce on his rice and then scooped up a spoonful. He wondered to himself, How the hell do people manage to eat rice with chopsticks?

She replied, "To a Vulcan that is a compliment. I believe the correct response when receiving a compliment from a human is 'Thank you.' Thank you, Commander Tucker."

She returned her attention to her lasagna. Inwardly she was hurt. It was illogical to be upset at being called unemotional. It WAS a compliment to a Vulcan. What was wrong with her? Why did she need Trip's approval? She summoned her control, seething inside. She would not get up and leave. She would continue to eat their stupid food. Lasagna was illogical. Why did the pasta need to be boiled and then baked? Why so many layers? Boil the pasta then one layer of sauce and then sprinkle the cheese on top. So much effort for a dish was wasteful. But, she liked it, a tiny voice told her. Stupid humans. Vulcan ships did not need a morale officer. Vulcans did not need to have their emotions coddled and egos stroked. Maybe she would be better off on a Vulcan ship far away from humans and Commander Tucker! She used her knife to cut another piece of lasagna and then stabbed at it with her fork, forcefully enough to clink loudly against her plate.

Trip looked abashed. He knew he'd gone too far. "Jeez, I'm sorry T'Pol. I shouldn't have said that."

"There is no need to apologize for complimenting me on my lack of emotions Commander. I have worked hard for that control."

"Well, I didn't mean you couldn't do your job. I think you're a damn good first officer even if I handle the morale officer part of the job."

She looked at him. "Thank you." His apology did make her feel better. It was illogical.

"And you're right about the protein resequencers. But it will improve morale to have real food all the same."

"It is not logical to complain about humans being illogical. There may be a paradox in there somewhere. I will have to review the Kir'Shara again to see if Surak had any wisdom on that point."

Jon allowed himself a small smile – crisis averted! Civilians may now emerge from their bunkers! He couldn't resist so he said, "Surak seemed to be right at home in my head. I didn't hear any complaints from him about illogical behavior."

T'Pol turned on him. Uh oh, target acquired thought Jon. "Surak was known for his ability to handle uncomfortable situations," she said before returning to her lasagna.

They continued eating. After a bit, T'Pol turned to the captain and said, "I must confess curiosity. We had to empty cargo bay five for those shipping containers from Andoria. What do they contain?"

Archer smiled. "You wouldn't believe me if I said Andorian ale, would you?"

Trip laughed. "I saw those crates, they're enormous. You planning on retiring and starting your own bar, Captain? Archer's Extraterrestrial Tavern?"

T'Pol traded a look with Trip. "I do not think the Captain's liver would survive that amount of alcohol," she said.

"OK, it's not Andorian ale. This is, however, top secret. This is even secret from the other Coalition governments for the moment."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow.

"Those ten crates are Andorian shield generators. We agreed to buy fifty percent of our needs from Kralek Heavy Industries AND we got the right to manufacture units under license. I got full schematics, training manuals, even the theory of operations and some Andorian physics textbooks to go along with."

Trip whooped. "Hot DAMN! That'll be something, won't it? I have been so tired of patching holes in the hull every time we get in a fight."

T'Pol looked down at her plate and then said, "I regret that Vulcan has been unwilling to share this technology with Earth."

Archer tried to console her. "We've gotten a lot of other help and technology from Vulcan. We probably wouldn't be out here to get shot at without Vulcan."

"Nevertheless, I feel my homeworld could be a better ally."

Tucker knew she felt strongly about this. "T'Pol, you've done everything you could to improve relations. You've always stood by us, no matter the cost." She had really. Her courage and loyalty were two of the things he liked, hell, that he loved about her.

Archer looked at her gently. "We'll keep working at it. Earth can do better too. I don't like keeping this arrangement secret from Vulcan. But, that's where we're at now. Trip, that thing needs enough power and bracing that we're going to have to wait until we're at Jupiter Station to install it. I want you and T'Pol and Malcolm to start going over the specs. The Andorians made some suggestions on how to install it and we're going to be taking a couple of specialists back with us as well. I made sure with Starfleet that Enterprise gets the first one and that you have complete control over the install."

Trip smiled almost as widely as Phlox could. "That is the best news I've had in a long time. Oh, this is going to be fun!" He got a little thoughtful. "So, what did we have that the Andorians wanted badly enough to trade for?"

"Well, we paid them a lot in cash. And we traded them transporter technology, with the same kind of agreement. Erickson Enterprises is going to be pretty busy."

Trip said, "Hold on a minute. I thought they already had transporter technology. They beamed Soval right out of his quarters that time!"

"No, the _Kumari_ had a transporter. Shran horsetraded for it from the Orions. It was the only one in the fleet. They didn't have the plans or anything other than the operator's manual. The Orions don't build them themselves; they get them from some unknown source. The only other source we know of for transporter technology is Earth. Even Vulcan buys them from Emory. He says he charges them extra as revenge for V'Kar telling him the idea of the Heisenberg Compensator was stupid and illogical."

T'Pol spoke up. "The Heisenberg Compensator _is_ illogical. Only a human could have conceived of such a concept."

Trip said, "Well, humans and whatever race the Orions are buying from."

T'Pol took another bite of lasagna. "Another race as illogical as humans." She looked at both of them in turn and raised an eyebrow. "Fascinating."

Trip said, "So cash and transporter technology. Anything else?"

"Well, to get the textbooks I threw in a case of tequila. And all of our Tabasco sauce."

"Oh no, you didn't." Trip had had his own encounter with Prairie Dogs at Archer's hands.

"Yep, I did. I made one for Shran and he seemed to like it and so did the boys from the Imperial Guard and Kralek. Guess I've started a new trade."

T'Pol was now confused. "What did you introduce to the Andorians?"

Trip and Jon looked at each other. It was almost like telepathy. "Well," said Archer, "it's kind of hard to describe. I think you'll just have to try one."

_Author's note: If you're in San Francisco, you can get what Archer is eating at Henry's Hunan. We usually go to the one on Sansome. I believe it is the "Spicy & Hot Rock Cod Filet" on their menu. Yummy! We just returned from a short vacation in Singapore so I have food on the brain._


	9. Another Nice Mess

Chapter 9 – Another nice mess

April 4, 2156 1400 – Enterprise Engineering, in orbit around Andoria (Procyon VIII)

Trip was uncomfortable. He knew he'd stepped over the line with T'Pol the night before. He didn't know what had led him to say what he had. His mouth had been leading a life of its own.

All through the morning staff meeting he had waited for the hammer to be dropped on him. He had been quiet, only speaking when it was required. T'Pol had been her normal cool and efficient self. No extra barbs for him, no little traps laid out for him to fall into. Was it really not affecting her?

Senior staff had been informed of the new shield generators and a plan was made for Trip, T'Pol and Malcolm to meet at 1400 in Engineering to begin learning about the shield generators and start thinking about how to install them. He had avoided the mess and T'Pol at lunch and was now waiting in his office for Malcolm and T'Pol to come down.

He had really just suddenly had a need to skewer T'Pol the previous evening. It wasn't that she was unemotional; he knew she wasn't, just controlled – it was that she was unemotional towards him, he finally realized. He'd thought he'd made his peace with their "just friends" relationship but obviously part of him had not. As he thought about it some more, he realized that all of him really wanted to restart their relationship. How could she just cut everything off so easily? That was the problem and he was upset about it. He'd been keeping a lid on everything and it was boiling over. Something had to be done soon or he was going to go nuts. He could definitely handle it in a more mature manner, though. He resolved to talk with T'Pol later.

On the bridge, Malcolm checked the time. 1355, time to head down to Engineering. He was definitely excited about the new shields. This was going to be great. He called over to T'Pol, "Commander, shall we head down to Engineering?"

"Yes," came the quiet answer.

Archer was sitting in the command chair, reading a report on a PADD. He spun the chair around as they headed for the turbolift. "Have fun kids."

"Definitely sir," replied Malcolm.

They reached Engineering and got to work with Trip right away. Specs were displayed and manuals read. There were a couple of calls to Hoshi to make sure that the translator was working properly. Finally, after an hour and a half, Trip had had enough book learning.

"OK, I think I have a decent idea of what the inputs and output for this baby should be. Let's pull one out of a crate and see if the specs actually match reality."

Malcolm perked right up. He loved getting his hands dirty. "That sounds like fun."

T'Pol was the voice of no fun, as usual. "There is no need to remove one from its crate at this time. Andorian manuals tend to be extremely accurate. Furthermore, the shield generators are somewhat delicate until braced properly and powered."

Don't treat me like a child, thought Trip. He said, "T'Pol, I'm chief engineer on a starship. I think I can take a peek in a crate without breaking anything."

"Very well, Commander." T'Pol knew that Trip couldn't wait to look at his new toys. She also knew there were a few surprises in the crate, having thoroughly reviewed the unpacking instructions early that morning. She wouldn't let Trip actually damage the generator or hurt himself but if he was determined to be headstrong, well, that was his look out. She was still smarting from last night, even after a lengthy meditation.

They headed down to cargo bay five. The ten large containers took up most of the bay, stacked neatly in two rows, three on the bottom, and two on top. The faces of the containers were nearly three meters square and they were about five and a half meters long.

The containers themselves were fashioned out of a shiny white composite and were covered with Andorian industrial hieroglyphics. Trip recognized some of them as the equivalent of "This Side Up!" "Handle with Care!". All of the arrows appeared to be pointing in the right direction. Large clamshell doors were on one end of the containers. Whoever had loaded the containers into the cargo bay had thoughtfully left enough space to get the doors open and had oriented them so the doors were facing out on both rows. There was enough room left on the right side of the bay for a narrow aisle between the rightmost container and the wall.

"Let's see…" said Trip, looking at a schematic on the crate. "According to this diagram, the generator should be on rails inside the crate so we should be able to just open the door and then pull it out."

T'Pol said, "Commander, I think it would be logical to review the unpacking instructions in the manual." She knew he wouldn't want to be logical, but she had given him the opportunity to avoid this little trap.

"I'm not going to unpack it, I'm just going to open the crate for a look see. Maybe pull it out a bit."

Malcolm spoke up. "Looks like there's a brace you can pull out at the front to keep the crate from tipping as you slide it out."

Trip looked down. "Oh, good idea Malcolm. Let's get that out." Another thought hit him "Let's turn the grav plating down as well. That way we'll be less likely to damage it even if we do drop it somehow." In a bad British accent he said, "Is that cautious enough for you Commander 'Elf and Safety?"

Malcolm shuddered. Health and safety had been the nemesis of Britons for over a century. "That accent is a menace to health Trip," he said.

T'Pol coolly replied, "You are taking an admirable number of safety precautions Commander." Just not the ones you really need to, like reading the manual!

After quickly checking to make sure all of the containers were secured and wouldn't go bouncing about, Trip pulled out a PADD and tapped in the commands to reduce the gravity to one tenth of a gee in the cargo bay. He carefully walked over to a container and gripped the handle that would disengage the latches. T'Pol discreetly stepped away from the container doors, moving back along the narrow aisle left between the crates and the wall of the cargo bay.

Trip tried to push on the handle but it was stuck and his feet were slipping on the floor in the low gravity. "Malcolm, give me a hand here would you?"

"Sure thing," said Malcolm and soon the two Starfleet officers were tugging on the handle and it slowly began moving.

Suddenly, the latches disengaged. The clamshell doors banged open and a flood of blue liquid, which had been completely filling the container, burst out under pressure. Trip and Malcolm were caught and thrown slowly across the bay in the low gravity, until they splattered against the wall and then remained there, next to the door, stuck by the fluid, which had turned into more of a gel where they had struck the wall.

T'Pol had deftly avoided the backsplash and now walked gingerly through the blue fluid to the two men. She quickly checked to make sure that neither of them had their airways blocked or anything dangerous. She produced some tissues from a hidden pocket in her catsuit and wiped their faces as they tried to spit out the fluid that had gotten into their mouths. She then stepped back, put her hands together behind her back and spread her legs slightly. She looked directly at Trip. "If you had followed my logical advice and read the unpacking instructions, you would have learned that the generators are packed in a pressurized shock absorbing fluid. Before opening the container, the fluid is supposed to be drained out through that fitting." She gestured to a stainless steel fitting protruding from the lower part of the right hand door on one of the other crates. She continued, "The fluid turns to a gel under a sharp impact but it is non-toxic and easily dissolves with a mild acid, such as vinegar. I will send a work crew down with some vinegar and mops to clean this up." She walked to the door.

"So this is your revenge for last night, huh T'Pol?" asked Trip. He couldn't turn his head to look at her, it was stuck to the wall. He shivered a bit; the crates had only been in the cargo bay for a day and the fluid was still at a comfortable temperature for an Andorian.

T'Pol turned. "Revenge, Commander? Revenge is an emotion. I would not know it if it bit me." And with that she left, leaving the two men stuck to the wall. Yes, revenge. And revenge is a dish best served cold.

Malcolm groaned and said "What was all that about?"

Trip replied "Oh, I got myself into trouble at dinner last night with my big mouth. I guess I had this coming. Hoist with my own petard and all that."

Malcolm said, "My father is always shooting off his mouth and getting into trouble with my mother. She likes to say 'Talk now, pay later'. Next time, pay by yourself, OK?"


	10. A Tall Ship and a Star to Steer Her By

Chapter 10 - A tall ship and a star to steer her by

April 4, 2156 1700 – Enterprise Situation Room, in orbit around Andoria (Procyon VIII)

On the bridge, T'Pol shut down the science console and headed for the turbolift. The alpha crew, minus the captain, were at their usual stations. A cleaned up Lieutenant Reed, smelling faintly of vinegar to her sensitive nose, was at the tactical station. She called out as she walked, "Lieutenant Reed, you have the conn."

"Yes ma'am," came the quiet reply.

She entered the turbolift and the doors closed.

Inside the situation room, Archer was fiddling with the mapping interface. He had gone for a walk around the ship before heading to the situation room for his meeting with T'Pol. He looked up as she came in. "Hi T'Pol, you're right on time."

"Of course - we were scheduled to meet at 1700 hours and there are currently no emergencies, so my being on time should be expected."

Archer chuckled. "Someday, I won't state the obvious and you're going to have a heart attack."

"My heart is in excellent condition, Captain. I would be very surprised, however."

Archer decided to raise his eyebrow at HER for that.

Teasing aside, he was concerned for her after last night's little dinner battle with Trip and subsequent sliming. This was the first chance he'd had to speak with her privately. "Are you OK? You and Trip were really getting into it at dinner last night. I thought he was over the line with what he said."

"I am fine. As I said, it is a compliment for a Vulcan to be called unemotional."

"You nearly broke your plate. Didn't look like it was a welcome compliment from where I was sitting."

"I do not wish to discuss it." Discussing it meant she would have to think about her relationship with Trip. The more she thought about her relationship, the more she wanted to expand it, even though he did infuriate her at times. Expanding the relationship meant dealing with her emotions. She did not want to deal with her emotions. Some of them were very painful. It was none of his business anyhow.

Archer felt he should help, but he wasn't good at people stuff and she was offering him an easy way off the hook. He took it.

"Well, if there's anything I can do to help, please let me know. I'm going to have a chat with Trip later."

"Please do not make a big deal out of it, I have already dealt with Commander Tucker."

"I heard about his blue goo encounter. There won't be any damage to the shield generator will there?"

"No, I checked the manual very carefully. The shock absorbing fluid is only needed during actual movement of the container. I will arrange for more shock absorbing fluid to be sent up and he can refill the crate tomorrow."

"OK, well, I thought he had it coming. You guys are starting to play a little rough, though. Try not to kill each other, OK?"

Slightly shocked, she looked at him. "I would never do anything that actually endangered Commander Tucker."

"I know, I know. Still, you two need to tone it down a notch or two."

"I understand Captain." Emotions back in the box, pivot and, "Shall we look at the potential courses?"

"Yes, let's." He thought to himself, personal problem time is over! One of the things he really liked about working with T'Pol was that she was so good at compartmentalizing.

She continued, "I have been reviewing the Vulcan Science Academy's list of interesting stellar phenomena and I believe I have found an excellent candidate to serve as the vertex of the first leg."

"Really? It's not a space moth, is it?" Oh, please don't let this be boring, please don't let this be boring, he thought.

"No. Are you familiar with pulsar SGRJ2020-4271, as it is referred to in Earth terminology?"

"No, I can't say that I am." He was well versed on the stellar geography within 100 lightyears of Earth, but not beyond. It had never seemed relevant. There weren't any pulsars within 100 lightyears of Earth.

She tapped at the controls of the main screen and brought a star map up. She entered co-ordinates and the map spun and zoomed, bringing up a blinking dot labeled "SGRJ2020-4271." "It is the nearest pulsar, at approximately 225.3 lightyears from Earth," she said.

"OK, well, investigating a pulsar up close sounds like a decent endpoint to the first leg. We'd be the first."

"There is more. SGRJ2020-4271 was only detected 130 years ago." She waited expectantly.

Archer knew there was a hook in there somewhere that she expected him to pick up on so he quickly reviewed what he knew about pulsars. Let's see, he thought to himself…Pulsars are rapidly spinning neutron stars. They appear to "pulse" because the misalignment of the rotational axis with the magnetic poles cause the beams of radiation coming out of the magnetic poles to flash at the observer. Pulsars are hard to miss. How could it not have been observed before?

"Is it especially faint?" he asked.

"No, it is of normal magnitude for a pulsar." Her lips held just a hint of a smile.

He thought some more. OK, so it couldn't have been missed. Could it be newly formed? Pulsars were also believed to be the results of supernovas. The closest observed supernova had been seen on Earth in 1054 and resulted in the Crab Nebula along with the Crab Pulsar. That supernova had been over 6500 light years away. It had been the brightest star in the sky, visible to the naked eye. A supernova put out enough energy to wipe out solar systems twenty to thirty lightyears distant. One 225 lightyears away would have lit up the night sky on Earth.

It hit him quickly. "There haven't been any supernovae that close, certainly not in the last 150 years. There's no way we could possibly have missed that."

She gave him an approving nod. "There are no Earth records of a supernova there nor does the Vulcan Science Academy have any records. There have been a number of research papers devoted to explaining SGRJ2020-4271. One of the more outrageous theories that has been proposed is that it is actually the result of extremely advanced engineering, for purposes that we do not understand."

T'Pol had first learned about this pulsar in her introductory astronomy class. The explanations for it by Vulcan scientists had been plausible and it was a minor mystery to the Vulcan Science Academy. It was not until she had read the paper from CalTech many years later that her interest had been piqued. She had never imagined that she would actually go to investigate it so had put it out of her mind and had not thought of it in 23 years. When she sat down to plan possible courses, it had popped back out of the recesses of her mind and tantalized her with the possibility of seeing it first hand.

"You mean someone might have created a pulsar?" His mind boggled at the technology that would need to be involved to create a pulsar. A pulsar was a mass greater than Earth's sun, spinning up to hundreds of revolutions per second. This was far beyond the capabilities of any race Archer was familiar with. Except maybe one.

"Do you think it might be another project of the Guardians?" he asked.

"I don't think they have the technology. The spheres, taken all together, massed less than Earth's Moon. Even their transformation of the Expanse didn't involve that much energy. It was more subtle."

"That's a little scary, don't you think?" Scary, but exciting, he thought. And this exploration wouldn't involve everyone on Earth dying if he screwed up. He could handle this.

"As I said, that is one of the more outrageous theories. There are other more mundane ones as well. It could simply be that the magnetic axis was aligned with the rotational axis and shifted at that time. The Vulcan Science Academy has that area tentatively scheduled for a survey mission around the Earth year 2750."

He looked at her and knew that, underneath, she had that same spirit of adventure that he had, though she would never admit it. They would both be very disappointed if it was boring.

"Well, this seems like an excellent opportunity to bump the timetable up, wouldn't you say?"

"I believe I did, Captain."


	11. An Officer and a Gentleman

Chapter 11 - An officer and a gentleman

April 4, 2156 1905 hours – Enterprise mess, in orbit around Andoria (Procyon VIII)

Trip looked around the mess as he entered. T'Pol was seated at their usual table, with her chair pushed back slightly, reading off a PADD with her legs crossed at the knee. Her plate was untouched in front of her. Well, I guess I haven't pissed her off too bad, he thought to himself. He collected his meal and approached the table. Here we go, he thought to himself.

"Am I welcome at the table?" he asked.

She looked up at him. "Of course," she said. She had found that her mood had lightened considerably after Commander Tucker had stuck himself to the cargo bay wall. She had been perusing the Kir'Shara to see if Surak had any wisdom on revenge. So far she had only found recommendations against it. Perhaps it was only appropriate in very small doses.

He sat down. "Did I get all the vinegar off?"

She took a delicate sniff. "Acceptable." She put the PADD down and scooted her chair in.

"I took three showers. Glad that worked."

"Perhaps next time you will read the instructions before opening an alien container. That could have been dangerous."

"You're right, you're right." Just let her have this one boy, he thought to himself. You can't win. At least she seems to care. "Cap'n says I was not being a gentleman last night and deserved whatever you did to me."

"The Captain said I should refrain from killing you," she replied.

"I'm sorry and I'll be better."

"It is forgotten."

They ate for a while in silence. When they finished, Trip stood up and got them a couple of mugs of tea. He sat back down, took a deep breath and said "T'Pol, I think the reason I was acting up was, well, I want our relationship to go beyond 'just friends' again. Is that going to be possible?" There, he'd put it out there. He didn't know what he would do if she said no. Maybe transfer again.

She looked into her mug for a long moment. "I'm not ready…yet," she said.

"Yet," repeated Trip.

"Yet" said T'Pol.

"Well, that's a lot better than 'no'. I can wait." He gave her a smile. Inside he was conflicted. It felt good that she hadn't shut him down but the waiting would be hard. Would she jerk him around again?

Her mind was whirring too as she looked at him over her mug. Could she open up enough to have a relationship with him? Would he accept her or did he really want her to be more emotional, more human? What would happen to her if she unlocked some of her emotional boxes? Would they all flood out and overwhelm her? She thought a little about her reactions the last few weeks. Did she really have her emotions as locked away as she thought? She stared down into her mug.

Trip couldn't stand the silence and said "So, what do you think about the power requirements on those shield generators?"

She looked at him. "Trip?"

He blinked, then grinned. She hadn't called him Trip in a long time. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, he thought. "Yes darlin'?"

"Don't talk," she said gently.

They sat there for a while, looking out the window at the blue and white expanse of Andoria rotating above the ship, just a little bubble of silence in the busy mess, content just to be together for a while.


	12. Good Enough for Government Work

Chapter 12 - Good enough for government work

_1 year and 2 months earlier…._

Feb 17, 2155 (Monday) 1512 - 95th Floor, Hall of State, Ra'tleihfi, Romulus

The Hall of State was a massive building. Its square base was 800 meters on a side and it towered one hundred stories above the Romulan capital city of Ra'tleihfi. On the roof, a park like area surrounded the ancient Senate Chambers, lifted stone by stone from their original location at ground level and reassembled high above the city. Beneath the Senate Chambers was much of the bureaucratic machinery of the Romulan Imperial government. Senator's offices made up the top three floors. The five floors beneath those made up the Office of the Praetor. Scattered throughout the building were the headquarters offices of the Galae s'Shiar and various ministries. All were continually vying for space closer to the top, closer to the seats of power.

The Praetor's Foreign Threat Council was meeting. The Council consisted of the Praetor, Proconsul Tamman, Senator Selak, chair of the War Committee, Senator Miral, Chair of the Intelligence Committee, and General Vralax, the head of Intelligence for the Galae s'Shiar. They had gotten past the preliminaries and now the topic being discussed was the takeover of Vulcan.

The Praetor was the same age as Proconsul Tamman, 147. They had graduated from the Romulan Military Academy together, 117 years before; Tamman had been first in the class, the Praetor, fifteenth. The Praetor had always had that extra bit of drive, though, that extra bit of charisma, that had put into the limelight while Tamman supported him. It had worked out well, and together they had ascended to the peak of the Romulan Empire. The Praetor enjoyed his food and drink more than Tamman, carrying quite a bit more weight, making him look a little soft in contrast to Tamman's sharp, hawklike features. Believing the Praetor to actually be soft inside had been the fatal mistake of more than one rival.

The Praetor was not happy. He said, "We were this close to taking complete control of Vulcan. We had control over the Administrator of the High Council! It's now been nine months since those idiots V'Las and Delon bungled everything; you've had plenty of time to evaluate the situation. Where are we now?"

Proconsul Tamman said, "Well, we extracted and disposed of V'Las." His body had been pushed out of an airlock a light year away from Vulcan. They had been merciful – he had been killed with a shot to the head from a disruptor first.

He continued, "Former Centurion Delon has been demoted. We are working to reestablish our network of operatives on Vulcan. The Vulcans are still unaware of our influence but they have been generally removing anyone in government who was associated with V'Las. This has had a negative effect on our penetration of their government."

The Praetor looked at his old friend. "Excuses, excuses, Tamman. We were ready to take full control! Then, out of nowhere, there is now a 'Coalition of Planets'? The Andorians and the Tellarites are talking to each other? And worse yet, they are both conspiring with the Vulcans! This is unacceptable! Our only chance to take control is to conquer them one by one. We cannot take on all of them together! How are we going to bring our plans to fruition?"

Proconsul Tamman spoke. "We need more information, Praetor, we need more information." He turned to General Vralax. "General Vralax. It has been six months since you took over Intelligence. At that time, you said it would take six months to produce a report on the Coalition of Planets and the member races. How is that proceeding?"

The General shifted nervously. "Well, Proconsul, we have been having some difficulty collecting all of the required information. Our policy of concealment with respect to our cousins the Vulcans and their neighbors has slowed the process considerably. Our agents operate most freely on Vulcan but it is difficult to sneak ships past the Vulcan defenses and subspace transmissions are allowed only for the most urgent communications."

Senator Miral decided to jump into the fray. She said, "That sounds like an excuse, General. The report was supposed to be ready by now. We need sound intelligence to plan."

Vralax was trapped. "No excuses, Senator. The reports are being prepared now. We will have them by Friday."

The Praetor spoke. "See that we do. Let us move to the next item on the agenda: Improving intelligence quality with efficiency tracking and reporting. That sounds promising…"

Feb 17, 2155 1615 - 75th Floor, Hall of State, Ra'tleihfi, Romulus

General Vralax returned to his office after the meeting. He was lean, 110 years old. Most of his career had been spent in the operational side of Intelligence. He was used to problems that you could shoot with a disruptor and subordinates that wanted to take action; not sit at their desks drinking _seklal_ (the Romulan equivalent of coffee). He had been promoted to General and Head of Intelligence in the wake of the V'Las fiasco. He had cleaned that up, but he was finding taking firm control of the bureaucrats to be difficult. They always had some weaselly answer, always some loophole to excuse themselves. Well, no more. It was time to kick some ass and get this report finished.

He called Sub-Commander T'Mirin. T'Mirin was in charge of the intelligence gathering effort versus the Coalition. The younger man on the screen braced to attention when he saw Vralax. He thumped his chest and made the Romulan salute immediately. "How may I serve, General?" he asked.

General Vralax leaned forward in his chair. "Sub-Commander. We need to have the Intelligence Briefings on the Coalition of Planets and all of its member worlds finished for the Foreign Threat Council. These are to be delivered to my office by Thursday."

"Sir, we are still gathering and compiling information," T'Mirin replied.

"Is that an excuse, Sub-Commander? You have had five months to compile information. I want those reports finished."

"Sir! They will be delivered on Thursday."

"Good." The General broke the connection.

Feb 17, 2155 1630 - 25th Floor, Hall of State, Ra'tleihfi, Romulus

Sub-Commander T'Mirin began contacting each of the offices responsible for the Coalition planets, spreading the pain rapidly and efficiently. The reports were now due to him Wednesday.

Feb 17, 2155 1635 - 14th Floor, Hall of State, Ra'tleihfi, Romulus

Sub-Commander Valin turned away from the viewscreen. He called the 19 other specialists assigned to the Vulcan desk into the large conference room.

Feb 17, 2155 1637 - 10th Floor, Hall of State, Ra'tleihfi, Romulus

Centurion Varal gathered up the 10 intelligence operatives assigned to the Andorian desk.

And so it went, until…

Feb 17, 2155 1650 - Sublevel 3, Hall of State, Ra'tleihfi, Romulus

"Earth desk, Uhlan Neral speaking."

T'Mirin peered out of the screen. "Where is Sublieutenant Shival?"

"He stepped out for a moment, sir," Neral said nervously.

"No matter. We need to have the Intelligence Briefing on Earth prepared by Wednesday."

"Wednesday, sir? We have not received all of the required information yet. We were only formed a week ago!"

"Is that an excuse Uhlan? This report is going to be seen by the Praetor!"

Uhlan Neral gulped and squeaked, "Yes sir! Wednesday, Sir!"

"Get to work Uhlan!" T'Mirin barked and broke the connection.

Feb 17, 2155 1700 - Sublevel 3, Hall of State, Ra'tleihfi, Romulus

Sublieutenant Shival walked back down the hall from the restroom. He was 131, had been a Sublieutenant for fifty years and he would probably retire a Sublieutenant. The Earth desk had been formed a week ago as the obscure planet began to appear in more and more reports. He had spent most of that time organizing his desk, procuring a _seklal_ dispenser and issuing requests for information to the field liaisons. He had yet to actually read anything about Earth. Uhlan Neral had joined him two days before. Thirty years old, he was fresh from the Romulan Military Academy.

When the door slid open on the small, cramped office they shared, Neral jumped to his feet.

"Sublieutenant, I'm so glad you're back. We just got a call from Sub-Commander T'Mirin. He wants the Earth Intelligence Briefing to be finished by Wednesday!"

"Oh he does, does he? Calm down Neral, calm down. Did you tell him that we haven't received all of the information yet?"

"Yes! He told me no excuses and this was going to the Praetor!"

"Calm down, calm down. Well, we're just going to have to make do with what we already have. It's not as though anyone is really interested in Earth anyhow. Don't worry."

"You think we can put it together that quickly?"

"There's a standard form. Relax. I'll pull up the form and you get the information that we have already."

"OK!" Neral was much relieved by Shival's calming comments.

Shival got a mug of _seklal _from the dispenser and sat at his workstation. "All right," said Shival, tapping around. "Here we have it. Intelligence Briefing, Alien Planet. Let's see… name… coordinates I have here… What's the population?"

Neral flicked around quickly. "Ummm, according to this Vulcan report, 6 billion."

"6 billion?"

"That's what it says here."

Shival sighed. Everyday was training day with these young people. "OK, you have to use some common sense when compiling these reports. What's the population of Romulus, Uhlan?"

"Uhhh…1 billion?"

"Correct. Vulcan?"

"600 million?"

"Correct again! How about Andoria?"

"About 200 million?"

"More like 250 million. I think you get the point. Coridan has 3 billion and it's the most populated world I can think of. Six billion is ridiculous, especially for people that just barely have warp drive. That must have been a translation error – Vulcan and Romulan share the same root language and on short phrases the translation program sometimes recognizes Vulcan as Romulan and just passes it through."

"I didn't know that!"

"Well, live and learn Uhlan. Some shared words have shifted in meaning and it causes no end of trouble. The Vulcan _gerak_ means 1,000,000 and our _gerak_ is 10,000,000 so when you see big numbers that look too big by a factor of 10, that's usually it. Most likely someone on Vulcan wrote it out as 600 Vulcan _gerak_ and then the auto translator passed it through as 600 Romulan _gerak_ and then it got translated into digits_. _Let's put that down as six hundred million. The planet is probably more fertile than Romulus or Vulcan," he lectured.

"Yes sir!" It was so good to work with someone of Shival's experience, thought Neral.

"OK, languages?"

"There are 20 listed and it says there are more than 3000 spoken on the planet."

"What? Those Vulcans. All that logic and they come up with the stupidest things. Copy off the top five and send them to me. Even that seems like too many."

"OK, that's sent. Next?"

"Well, we need population centers."

"Yes sir. They're listed here by size. Tokyo, 35 million. Jakarta, 22 million. Mumbai, 21 million."

"Stop. It must be that damn gerak unit again. Copy those over and divide them all by 10."

"Yes sir. Um, sir, we haven't gotten any recent data from the Vulcans apparently. This report I'm reading is actually from a historical record. It's nearly 150 years old! Why would we be getting this kind of data?"

"Well, it's not like we have a tap into the Vulcan network we can use here. Everything has to be requested from one of our operatives, copied and then smuggled out. We can't take massive data dumps without getting caught so it's very directed. I don't think anyone ever asked for any information on Earth before. This was probably background for another report. Check the provenance. It's that button up in the upper left hand corner."

Uhlan clicked and squinted at the tiny type that appeared in a box on his screen. "You're right. It was attached to a report on Vulcan explorations."

"It should be fine, things never change that quickly."

"But this is going to the Praetor!" objected Neral.

"They know how to read intelligence briefings up there, trust me. We'll just make sure that it's documented. Let me introduce you to your new best friend. It's called a 'footnote'."


	13. Mind Your P's and Q's

Chapter 13 – Mind your P's and Q's

April 19, 2156 1035 –Andoria orbit (Procyon VIII)

The Kralek Heavy Industries passenger shuttle shuddered as it passed through some turbulence on its way to its rendezvous with Enterprise. This was the VIP shuttle, used for the top executives of the company. Larger than one of Enterprise's shuttles, inside it was well appointed, with comfortable seats, communications equipment and a well stocked bar. The passenger compartment was separated from the pilot's compartment for privacy. The cabin was set at a comfortable 10 degrees Celsius.

The three passengers were quiet. Talarak, the Director of Technology for Kralek Heavy Industries, was an older woman. She was a frequent user of the shuttle and quite at home. In addition to her position with Kralek, she also served on General Krag's Defense Council. She had been part of the Andorian negotiating team who had met with Archer previously. She was writing in an old fashioned notebook, the pages made from the thin scales of the _arkla_, a huge, serpent like animal.

Melek and Igrilan were young engineers in the Shield Division. They had been assigned to go to Earth and assist with the shield installation and design work. The possibility had been raised some months before but it was only after the negotiations had been completed that they had finalized the trip plans. Talarak was a last minute addition to the trip and her presence was making them both uneasy and curious. They had been expecting to take one of the work boats up to Enterprise, not the VIP shuttle.

Igrilan, a younger male, was staring pensively out the window.

Talarak looked up from her notebook. "Taking a last look at home Igrilan?" she asked.

"Yes Director," he answered. Melek, a tall woman, also looked away from her window.

"Worried about being away for so long?" Talarak asked.

"I think I'm more worried about taking passage on such a primitive ship," said Igrilan.

"Enterprise may be a little old fashioned by our standards but I wouldn't call it primitive," Talarak chided, as she finished inking a small diagram.

"I don't understand why there's so much fuss over these Humans. We should have just given them a manual. If they want the shield generators installed they could have come to our facilities here," Igrilan said.

Talarak put her notebook into her bag. Igrilan was a bright young engineer but he needed to learn a bit about business and politics.

"These Humans may very well be the making of your career and yours too Melek," she said.

Melek snorted, "Fah! I don't want a career dependent on primitives!"

Talarak sighed. "Before we left, did you two notice that Manufacturing was in a tizzy?"

Igrilan said, "No, not really. I don't get down to that area of the plant very often." Melek shook her head.

Talarak said, "We just shipped ten medium shields generators up to Enterprise a few days ago – we only have two in stock now. We just received a purchase order from Starfleet on Earth for an additional forty to be delivered this year."

Melek's antennae stood up straight. "We normally only build 24 a year!"

"I hadn't noticed," Talarak replied drily.

Igrilan and Melek looked at each other in confusion. Melek said, "What can these Humans be doing?"

Talarak replied, "That is why I'm coming on this little field trip. General Krag is also very curious about what the Humans are up to. We've had no indications that they had so much ship building capacity."

Igrilan said, "But what about the needs of the Imperial Guard? Are we going to short change ourselves?"

"Igrilan, this contract is only good for ten Earth years. After that, they are free to produce as much as they like under the terms of their license. If they do not believe that Kralek Heavy Industries and Andoria are good partners, we will not be getting that business. The first part of being a good business partner is actually having goods for the customer!"

"What do we care about these Humans? Our defense must come first!" he said forcefully.

"These Humans are going to be a force in this quadrant of space. As far as the Defense Council can tell, they are going to be the best allies Andoria can have," said Talarak.

"Andoria doesn't need allies! We are strong!" said Igrilan.

"Igrilan, please. We are 250 million people on Andoria, another 50 million on the colonies. We are outnumbered on all sides. We have good ships and brave warriors. But numbers will always win out in the end. We have been fighting with the Vulcans for centuries. Only their lack of real interest in our icy worlds have kept them back. The Tellarites are impossible to get along with. They are stupid but they have numbers. However, we can get along with the Humans. They are not as smart as the Vulcans but they do well. Their theoreticians are at least the equal of ours. And there are 10 billion of them on their homeworld!" Ever since accurate statistics had become available to the Defense Council she had been worried. The more she learned about the Humans the more she became certain that they would be the major force in the quadrant within a century.

"How is that possible?" asked Melek.

"It is a warm and fertile planet. It is also a rich world. When we told Archer the price for the shield generators he hardly blinked. It was well within his negotiating parameters it would seem. And we charged 50% more than we would to the Guard!"

"So you're saying they're rich, they're reasonably smart and there's a lot of them. Where does that leave us? We're like a rounding error on their census!" spat Melek.

"Yes, we are, aren't we?" said Talarak. "Finding out where we fit with respect to the Humans suddenly takes on a whole new urgency, wouldn't you say?" she asked. "The Humans look on us as being more advanced and they don't see our limitations yet. I want to keep it that way as long as possible. I expect you both to be on your best behavior. Is that understood?"

"Yes Director" they replied. Silence descended as Talarak took her notebook out of her bag again.

Twenty minutes later the shuttle docked with Enterprise's port airlock. Archer, Trip and T'Pol were there to greet them.

Talarak was first through the airlock. Archer greeted her right away. "It's a pleasure to see you again Director Talarak. I was a little surprised to hear you were coming personally."

Melek and Igrilan struggled through the hatch with the baggage.

"I wanted to make sure that our new customers were properly taken care of. We also had a lot of questions about the transporter internals and I was anxious to get some answers from the source. The Heisenberg compensator assembly steps are a little strange to say the least."

Trip laughed. "Those things are weird. You open them up and look inside and they stop working!" T'Pol shot Trip a look. Trip continued, "We had Emory Erickson on board a while back and I asked him about that. He claims it's an observer effect and that they use blind people to put them together at the factory."

"Really?" said Talarak. "Well, perhaps we could use the Aenar for that."

T'Pol jumped in, "I believe that was a joke. Human humor can sometimes be difficult for non-Humans to recognize."

"I could see why Vulcans would have difficulty," said Melek. You don't have a sense of humor at all, do you?" she continued, looking down at the Vulcan.

The shorter T'Pol looked up at her and quirked an eyebrow. "I have heard Human males say that women in general lack a sense of humor. You may take that up with them. Personally, I find that a sense of irony substitutes quite well for a sense of humor most days and requires a bit more…intellect."

Talarak guffawed, "Shran said that you could hold your own, T'Pol. I see he was correct." She nailed Melek with a glare. "Best. Behavior. Or I'm sure we have openings in Maintenance." Melek visibly wilted, her antennae drooping.

T'Pol ignored the interchange. "Shall we show you to your quarters?" she asked.

"A fine idea," said Talarak.

T'Pol led off and the group began walking down the corridor. Archer said "We'll be breaking orbit in a couple of hours so we'll be a little busy until we're underway. I'd like to have the three of you join us for dinner tonight."

Talarak replied, "We'd be delighted. And perhaps afterwards we can share some Andorian ale, and maybe some of that Earth drink you introduced us to the other day, what was it called, tekila?"


	14. Best Behavior

Chapter 14 - Best Behavior

April 23, 2156 2135 – Enterprise Sickbay, en route to Earth (Sol III)

Ensign Jane Spector walked into Sickbay and looked around. It was quiet, no patients or anyone else in sight. She knew Phlox tended to keep late hours, though. "Hello Doctor Phlox, are you busy?" she called.

"No, not at all. Come in, Doctor Spector, come in." Phlox emerged from behind a cabinet.

"Did you feel that big shudder a few minutes ago?

"I certainly did. Nearly dropped a tray of cultures. I would have lost months of work."

"What do you think happened?"

"I don't know. It's not normal, but there don't seem to be any alarms. I wouldn't be worried, Doctor."

"You should call me Ensign, everyone else does."

"Nonsense! You have a PhD and an MD from UCSD and you did your post doctoral work at Harvard. You earned your title."

"But then I joined Starfleet and I'm just an Ensign now. It seems like half the crew have advanced degrees, anyhow."

"Well, I'm not in Starfleet. I'm a civilian contractor and I get to call you whatever I like. So there! Besides, you're the only one who has an MD. And you are bringing me delightful creatures now as well!"

"Thanks Doctor. I'm not sure how good an MD I am. It seemed like a good idea at the time but I'm just too squeamish around sick people. I never did my residency. Anyhow, I just came by to see how my ice bores are doing."

"Oh, very well, very well. After Commander Tucker reinforced the walls on the freezer they've been no trouble at all."

Jane walked over to the freezer and opened the lid. She looked in at the block of ice with holes through it like swiss cheese. A glow lit the block of ice from below. "Their chemistry is amazing, don't you think? So much power concentrated in them. They almost make me think that they were engineered rather than evolved."

"Have you looked at their genetic sequences? Looks evolved to me," snorted Phlox.

"Well, you're right Phlox. Genetic engineering will generally jump right out at you; it's usually so much more regular, at least the work that Humans do. Do you find that true for work done by other races?" She had her head all the way in the freezer now as she tried to make out the ice bores at the bottom.

"Yes, that's usually the case. I didn't think Humans did much genetic engineering, though. Every physician I've talked to has an almost visceral dislike of it."

"Oh, well, doctors tend to have a narrow view of the world. After the disasters with the Augments it's been forbidden to engineer humans but lots of work goes on for agriculture and biotech."

"There may be some wisdom in that." Phlox said. Then he muttered, "The Augments I've met were pretty terrifying." Oops, he thought, my big mouth again. Maybe she hadn't heard.

Her head jerked up from the freezer. "When did you ever meet any Augments?"

"Did I say that? You must have been mistaken Doctor."

Just then a strong vibration began to shake the ship. A few moments later, alarms began blaring.

"Oh no, that sounds like trouble. Help me get ready for casualties," Phlox said.

_20 minutes earlier…_

April 23, 2156 2115– Enterprise Conference Room, C deck, en route to Earth (Sol III)

The Bubbleheads, as Trip liked to call the Shield Design group, were gathered in a conference room. Trip, T'Pol and Malcolm represented Enterprise with Melek and Igrilan present as the experts and advisors. Trip was trying to get as much knowledge as possible from Melek and Igrilan during the trip, so they were assembled again after dinner. The first couple of days had been spent in teaching the two Andorians about the specifications of Enterprise. Now, the work of figuring out how to install these shield generators was actually beginning.

A location on F deck had been tentatively chosen for the installation and they were now trying to figure out how to get power to the shield generator. Melek had a proposed routing for new EPS conduits to feed it up on the screen.

"I don't want to pull any more plasma through that junction, Melek," Trip was saying.

"Why not?" asked Melek. "All of the simulations I have run show that it will be well within specifications."

"Well, there's simulation and then there's reality. For some reason, that junction has always been prone to overload. EPS distribution is still fairly new for us and the simulation software is still a little off."

T'Pol spoke up, "The simulation software is based on Vulcan algorithms. There is no logical reason for it to be incorrect." It was an old argument.

"Well, logical or not, it's always been a little off. Enterprise is the first Human ship with such a complex EPS grid so we never pushed the software so far before. Older ships only used EPS for the warp nacelles."

"What did they use instead of EPS?" asked Melek.

"Electricity" replied Trip.

"Fah, that's only good for hair driers." Melek loved the hum of plasma as it went through a conduit. It made her antennae tingle. "Well, since you Humans are so inexperienced with EPS distribution, perhaps you should take the advice of people who have been working with it for centuries."

"Commander Tucker's knowledge of Enterprise's systems is unmatched, even by the designers," T'Pol interjected forcefully.

"Well, he obviously doesn't understand EPS…" Melek began.

The ship suddenly shuddered violently and they were all nearly thrown out of their seats. T'Pol immediately went to the wall communicator. "T'Pol to the Bridge. What's going on?"

O'Neill replied quickly. "The autohelm detected a small but deep gravitational well and took evasive action. We just barely missed it. I think it might have been a microsingularity."

"Fascinating," said T'Pol. "I am in the C deck conference room if you need any assistance." She found herself looking forward to reviewing the sensor logs.

"Thanks Commander, I think we're OK up here."

The argument resumed. After a while, Trip said "What's that?"

"What are you referring to?" asked T'Pol.

"There's a weird vibration…"

Tucker got out of his seat and went over to the comm panel by the door. He pressed the button and said, "Tucker to Engineering. Kelby, what's going on down there?"

The answer came back quickly, "All the boards are green Commander."

"No, there's something going on. I'm coming down. T'Pol, I might need your help."

"Certainly," came the soft reply.

"Why don't the rest of us tag along? It might be instructive," said Malcolm. "I'll keep our guests safe."

By the time they reached Engineering everyone could feel the vibration. As the door opened, alarms began blaring. It was nearing the end of beta shift and only Kelby, Rostov and Kelly were on duty in Engineering. Kelby turned as they entered. "Sir, there's a constriction in the plasma flow to the port nacelle. The warp field is beginning to.."

He was cut off by an explosion in the plasma junction behind him. It knocked him down onto his face and he lay there, still, the back of his uniform scorched by the explosion.

Tucker hurried for the warp reactor control panel. His feet only touched the top rung on the short ladder as he leaped up to the small catwalk and pulled himself up with the handrails.

"Lieutenant Reed, take care of Kelby!" called T'Pol as she headed for the plasma relay control board.

"The field is unbalancing! We're going to wormhole if we can't get it balanced!" yelled Trip.

"There is a constriction in the main feed conduit for the port nacelle. I am attempting to balance the network but the constriction is too pronounced." T'Pol yelled back.

Rostov and Kelly fought to bring the fire in the junction under control with hand extinguishers.

"Why can't we just shut it down?" asked Igrilan. All of the engineering personnel ignored him. Malcolm was on the communicator calling for Phlox.

"Idiot!" spat Melek. "At this speed, if the warp field collapses the ship will disintegrate."

Tucker yelled to T'Pol, "How about the backup feed?"

"It is constricted also."

"Which feed will be easier to get at?"

"The primary, I think. It is on D deck, frame 135 port side, going into the 2nd stage plasma accelerator."

More Engineering personnel were entering the compartment, responding to the alarms blaring throughout the ship.

Tucker took a last look at the reactor control panel. "We need to fix that conduit," he muttered. He looked around for a moment, taking stock of Engineering. The plasma junction was no longer burning and he was happy to see that Lieutenant Hess had just entered. He made some quick decisions and started rapping out orders, "Rostov, Kelly, you're with me. Hess, get up here and run the reactor controls. T'Pol do what you can to keep the EPS grid balanced!" He jumped off the reactor catwalk, opened a locker and pulled out a pair of EPS emergency repair modules. He raced out the door. Rostov and Kelly followed him and then, a second later, Melek. Igrilan ran to help T'Pol with the EPS grid.

On the bridge, Archer had made it to the command chair in a mad dash from his cabin. He thumbed the comm panel on the command chair. "Bridge to Engineering. Report!"

"T'Pol here. The warp field is unbalancing and we are in danger of generating a wormhole. Commander Tucker is attempting to repair a constriction in the EPS grid. Any change in our course or speed could be dangerous."

"Understood." He wanted to know more but knew there was no time for explanations. At this point, there was little that could be done from the bridge. All they could do was hold on and pray that the engineers could balance the field before the wormhole formed and sucked the ship in. "Steady as she goes Ensign" he called to the helmsman. "And hang on tight, everyone, this may get a little strange." Unbalanced warp fields could generate time distortions and other effects.

Near the second stage plasma accelerator, the trouble was intensifying. The interaction of the warp field with the intense gravitational field had sent compression waves through the EPS system. The electro plasma system grid routed plasma around the ship to power the most energy intensive installations: hull polarizers, phase cannons, impulse engines and the warp drive. The conduits that routed the plasma were not just pipes; nothing material could contain the plasma. The conduits contained coils that generated a magnetic containment field. The coils were computer controlled, reacting to the plasma ebb and flow in nanoseconds. The compression waves from the near miss had frustrated the auto balancing software and a standing wave had formed, causing the constriction. Now, as Trip and the engineering team reached the trouble spot, the plasma pressure overloaded the magnetic containment and a tiny thread of star hot plasma worked its way through the shell of the conduit and superheated the atmosphere in the corridor, which exploded.

Trip, running in the lead, was caught in the explosion and thrown back against a bulkhead. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.

In Engineering, T'Pol staggered. She had cut herself off from her bond with Trip some time before, wrapping it in layers of denial and mental shielding. Nothing had reached her through those layers until now. She felt the shock and Trip falling unconscious. She shook her head to clear it. She wanted to run to him but she forced that urge down. _No time_, she thought to herself. _Save the ship or we all die._ Duty first again, always.

Igrilan looked at her and reached out to steady her. She brushed him away. "I am fine" she said and returned her attention to the control panel.

Near the second stage plasma accelerator, the temperature rose rapidly as the plasma vented, expanding its hole in the conduit. A fierce light came from the rod of plasma venting from the conduit. Rostov grabbed Trip and pulled him back into cooler territory. "We need to get EV suits," he shouted to Kelly. Time dilation effects distorted his voice and the air seemed to streak and shimmer as the warp field wobbled.

"There isn't time," said Melek. "Give me a repair module, I can get it done."

The crew had heard a lot about Andorians' toughness. "Just get it on the top of the conduit, close to the breach and push this button. Then slide it over the breach. Good luck!" said Kelly. Kelly turned and ran to get an EV suit in case Melek failed.

The Andorian grabbed the repair module and charged into the inferno. Eyes shut against the light from the plasma, she could sense the magnetic fields and the plasma through her antennae. She located the plasma conduit by its magnetic field and put the module on it, half a meter away from the breach. Melek slid the repair module forward along the damaged conduit as she triggered its automatic functions. The repair module's heavy duty coils charged up and cut the flow of plasma off. She slid it forward over the breach and it locked itself into place, integrating with the EPS grid control network. She stumbled backwards out of the heat.

Back in Engineering, T'Pol and Igrilan were frantically trying to balance the plasma flows. When the repair module showed up on the screen, Igrilan immediately set it to free flow. Within seconds the grid started balancing out. Shortly thereafter Hess called down from the reactor controls "Port nacelle is coming back to full power. The field is stabilizing."

"T'Pol to the bridge. The warp field is balanced. Drop out of warp immediately."

"Understood," came the reply from Archer.

After turning engineering over to Hess and checking in with the Captain, T'Pol made her way to Sickbay. She stopped outside the doors for a moment to silently recite a calming mantra. It was not successful. She stepped through the door, apprehensive.

Phlox turned at the sound of the doors opening. He was in the process of painting Melek's face with bright orange medical goo as she sat on a biobed. "Ah, Commander! Everyone will be fine I'm happy to report."

She entered the sick bay and looked around. Kelby was lying on his stomach on a bio bed. Some alien creature was stuck to the back of his neck. Ensign Spector was running a scan on him. On another biobed, Trip lay, unconscious.

"What are the casualties, Doctor?" T'Pol asked.

"Well, Melek here got some light burns from the heat. Fortunately, Andorians are more resistant to extreme temperatures than most species. Commander Kelby has a mild concussion and second degree burns. He will be fit for duty tomorrow. Commander Tucker has a more serious concussion and flash burns. I'm keeping him sedated for a time. He will be fine, though."

"Thank you Doctor." She wanted to run to Trip but that would be unsightly. In any case, he was unconscious so logically it made no sense. She still wanted to go. Instead she said, "Melek, your actions saved the ship. We are all grateful."

Melek looked at her, moving only her eyes and antennae as Phlox resumed dabbing at her face. "I thought Vulcans don't say 'thank you'?"

"I have found that being a little flexible makes interspecies communication easier. Expressing gratitude may be illogical but it costs little and if done honestly is very fruitful."

"Huh. Well, you're welcome green skin."

"If you will excuse me, I would like to check on Commander Tucker."

T'Pol went to Trip's biobed. His face, also, was painted with the bright orange medical goo. She stood there, looking at him, for a long moment. _What should I do?_ she thought to herself. _Should I wait for him to wake up? How would it look?_

Phlox, finishing up with Melek, looked over at T'Pol. He knew her well enough after all these years to know that she didn't want to show her attachment to Commander Tucker in front of others. Well, someone would just have to give her some kind of an excuse.

"T'Pol," he called to her. "I think that Commander Tucker would benefit from a familiar face when he wakes up and I have a lot of tidying up to do. If you don't mind, could you sit with him for a while? He should be awake within the hour."

"I can wait," she replied. She went looking for a chair.

Melek asked Phlox, "What is going on between those two? They argue incessantly but when anyone else disagrees with either of them they instantly join forces."

"Ah, yes. Well, they are advanced practitioners of interspecies communications." Phlox thought to himself, _Or, you could also refer to it as interspecies intercourse, in English._ He gave Melek a huge Denobulan smile and chuckled. English was such a wonderful language for puns, even ones you couldn't share.

"I think they should 'get a cave' as we say on Andoria. She needs to be more aggressive. Andorian women take what they want." Across the Sickbay, T'Pol pretended not to hear.

Soon after Archer stopped by for a quick chat with Melek and Kelby. He checked on Trip and spoke with T'Pol for a moment, then left.

A few minutes later, Phlox had sent Melek and Kelby back to their quarters and Ensign Spector went off to bed. When it was just she and Phlox in Sickbay, T'Pol reached out and took Trip's hand. She stroked his hair with her other hand for a moment, smoothing it back into something resembling his normal hairstyle. Trip was still young for a Human, at 35, but in Sickbay's strong lighting she could see a couple of gray strands amid the blonde hair.

She thought about the other T'Pol, sent into the past. Her Trip had died young, not far into his fifties. Even so, they'd had nearly twenty years together. It was possible that she would have fifty or more with her Trip. The other T'Pol said it had been the logical choice, even after having spent 97 years alone.

The logical thing to do was to move forward, but it scared her. What if, after knowing her, knowing everything, he rejected her? He was not the Trip who went into the past. He had a whole planet of potential mates here.

Phlox came over to her. "Even the Andorians can see there's something between you two. Why don't you just give it a try? I think you've gotten enough hints by now that it could work."

She looked up at Phlox. She always thought of him as older and wiser, even though she was actually slightly senior. He had done so much more with his life; he had married, raised children even. She felt like she was still a child sometimes.

"I am so..broken. I don't know if I can be the mate that he deserves. I need more time to fix myself." She looked so mournful Phlox wanted to just sweep her up in his arms and hold her.

"Nonsense, T'Pol. I'm sure he would be very happy with you. He may be just what you need to 'fix yourself.' Time may be shorter than you think. From what Melek and Kelby were telling me, we all nearly died today! We Denobulans, we say, 'Live for the moment! Tomorrow you may be dead.'"

"I'm not sure if that is comforting, Doctor."

At that moment, Trip started to rouse. T'Pol found her control and returned her features to her normal impassive mask.

Trip opened his eyes and found T'Pol looking at him. He blinked, and remembered the peril they had been in before he had been knocked unconscious.

"We're not dead, are we?" he asked. It was kind of like heaven to look into her eyes.

"No. Melek was successful in stabilizing the plasma conduit and we balanced the warp field and exited warp safely." She remembered that she was holding his hand and hastily let go of it.

"Been awhile since I woke up in Sickbay. Thought I had kicked the habit. Nice to see you were worried about me."

"Vulcans do not worry. Doctor Phlox suggested that a familiar face would be welcome when you awoke so I waited." It was so easy for her to retreat behind the familiar banter and misdirection. She wondered if it was logical to dissemble.

Trip gave a small smile. His face still hurt a bit from the burns despite the salve. "He was right, it was. No offense, Doc, your face would have been a good sight too."

"None taken. Sit up and let me give you a last scan before I send you off to bed. It's almost time for the late night feeding here."

"I'd better get down to Engineering and make sure everything is all right," said Trip.

"No, I'm requiring you to rest until morning. Everything is fine, isn't it T'Pol?" said Phlox.

"Lieutenant Hess had matters in hand when I left Engineering. I will escort Commander Tucker and make sure he makes it to his quarters safely."

He sent them off. As they exited, Trip began good-naturedly teasing T'Pol, "Make it safely? I didn't think you were worried."

"I am merely coming along to assure anyone you may meet in the halls. Someone could be frightened by the burn salve on your face." The Sickbay doors closed behind them.

_Author's Note: I was getting tired of writing meeting scenes so I decided on Character Development By Explosion, a long revered Trek tradition. If you're wondering how TnT had 20 years together on the E2 Enterprise, the E2 Enterprise was sent back to 2037, so it was 117 years until they met up with the main line Enterprise. Lorian was "over 100" but never specified. I decided that they were together for 6 years before having a child, Trip dies when Lorian is 14, which gives them 20 years together and makes Lorian 111 in 2154. _


	15. The Miss Congeniality Award

Chapter 15 – The Miss Congeniality Award

_Author's note: Alelou has graciously agreed to be my beta for this story starting with this chapter and I'm very thankful for her help. It's nice to have someone with her experience critiquing and advising._

_1 year and 1 month earlier_

March 3, 2155 1100 – 93rd Floor, Hall of State, Ra'tleihfi, Romulus

Proconsul Tamman came through the emergency exit into the anteroom of the Praetor's chambers and walked past the turbolift doors. His office was only one story down, so he habitually took the stairs. He passed the Praetorians on duty into the main audience chamber.

The main audience chamber was huge, over 100 meters long, 50 meters wide and five stories tall, designed to make those entering feel like insects as they approached the Praetor across the vast space. It was richly appointed, with inlaid mosaics in the stone floors and large paintings of historical scenes on the walls. Great striped pillars held up arches, emulating the ancient style of building in stone. Statues looked down from high positions. The vaulted ceiling was lavishly decorated.

As always, Tamman bit down a feeling of disgust at the extravagance. He had argued bitterly with the Praetor over this audience hall when they had built the new Hall of State twenty-five years before.

The Praetor's throne on a high dais at the other end of the hall was empty.

Tamman walked through the hall briskly. There were no short cuts to the Praetor's office. The long walk not only served a psychological purpose but also gave the Praetorians plenty of time to scan and prepare as necessary for anyone coming to see the Praetor. Tamman attributed his own fitness to his frequent treks through the hall. He had suggested the Praetor come visit his office more often to work off some of his excess weight; the suggestion had not been taken well. Perhaps he should buy the Praetor a bicycle for his birthday, he thought. That would be a good use for the hall as well. The thought of the Praetor on a bicycle riding around the audience hall gave him a good laugh as he walked. He didn't think his old friend would appreciate that suggestion either.

Reaching the far end he walked around the dais and nodded to another pair of Praetorians stationed on either side of an unmarked door. One used his palm print to open the heavy door for Tamman and he entered the Praetor's working office. It was built to a more Romulan scale, still extravagantly decorated, but only 10 meters on a side with a 3 meter ceiling. Deep in the center of the building with strongly fortified walls, high quality view screens set between stone pillars substituted for windows. The heavy door slid shut behind Tamman with a vault-like thud.

The Praetor was standing at a large table with PADDs and paper documents spread out before him. He looked up with pleasure at his old friend.

"Jolan Tru, Tamman! What disasters do you have for me today?"

"The Klingons are pushing against our borders again."

"Wonderful. Should I be worried?"

"No, we can handle them, but the fleet is going to be busy with those barbarians."

"Show me what's going on."

Tamman rummaged on the Praetor's table and found the controller. He switched one of the big view screens from the view of Ra'tleihfi to a tactical view of the Empire and surrounding space. The Imperial space was tinged a soothing red, the Klingon space a menacing blue. The blue space formed the jaws of a trap around the Empire, open only on the side facing Vulcan and what the Threat Council had come to call the Daenn: Andoria, Tellar, Coridan and this new factor, Earth. The Empire had held off the Klingons for centuries but it was a stalemate for now. The Klingons, however, had room to expand and new systems to conquer. It would take time, but eventually they would grow strong enough to tighten the jaws of the trap, crushing the Empire.

He worked the controller some more and three star systems turned green. "Here, at Carraya and here near Unroth there have been probing attacks. Near the Klingon system of Narendra, we have detected their ships passing into Romulan space. They were repulsed at Carraya and Unroth and I've dispatched a task force to strengthen the border patrols near Narendra."

"All at the same time? What are they up to? We need more resources to push back against the Klingons." The Praetor went to his desk and sat down heavily, staring at the star map.

Tamman said, "As always, the path to the resources we need leads us back to our Vulcan cousins. If we had been more aggressive three centuries ago we might have been able to stop the Klingons' advance." He pulled a chair out from the table and sat down as well.

"We were hard at work pacifying the Remans then. No point in second guessing past Praetors. I'm sure our successors will consider us fools as well." He turned his chair to face Tamman. "It's obvious that we must take Vulcan or stagnate and eventually be crushed. We've tried subtlety and infiltration. Is it time to simply reveal ourselves and take them by force?"

"No, even with their newfound obsession with that idiot Surak's teachings, they are still formidable. We need to create a situation in which they will join us voluntarily."

The Praetor leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. "If the Andorians and the Tellarites were fighting with the Vulcans, we could be their saviors. Hasn't that been our plan for the last ten years?"

"Unfortunately this 'Coalition of Planets', the Daenn, has been more effective than I would have believed. They have all stopped shooting and started talking with each other."

The Praetor leaned forward. "How is this possible, Tamman? They were never able to communicate before."

"My analysis is that the Humans are the key to the Coalition," said Tamman. He manipulated the controller and the Sol and Alpha Centauri systems turned green.

"The Humans? They hold little territory. Look at it!" The Praetor gestured at the screen. The Empire consisted of two dozen star systems and the space between, dwarfing the tiny Human sector. "And their ships are pathetic. Why should they be the key?"

"They are the one new factor. They are apparently able to talk with everyone. The Vulcan report on the Babel conference was quite clear - the Humans are the glue binding them together."

The Praetor was quiet for a moment. "They're a client race of the Vulcans, aren't they? Do they share our cousins' love of logic?"

"Apparently, no. The Vulcans regard them as dimwitted charges that they are obligated to improve. Any Vulcan report that references the Humans invariably mentions their stupidity and illogical nature."

"Is there any race the Vulcans do not regard as stupid and illogical?" asked the Praetor.

"No, but the Humans are held to be especially backwards by them."

"Stupid but amiable. They must be very persuasive to bring such old enemies to the negotiating table. Well, what can we do to diminish their influence?"

Tamman rose from his seat to pace. "If we can take the Humans off the diplomatic map for, say, five years, we could get the Tellarites and the Andorians at the throats of the Vulcans. I think destroying the Humans' major cities would do just that."

"Quite possibly. However, don't forget, we need to strike at them in a way that can't be traced to us," said the Praetor.

Tamman resumed pacing, then stopped. "Do you remember Valdore's drone ship program, Praetor?"

"Yes, that was going to leave them all in disarray and ripe for the plucking." The Praetor scowled.

"Well, Valdore is no longer involved. I've had one of my young hotshots take it over. I think we could launch an attack with drones on the Humans that would be devastating and completely untraceable to us. They can't have much in the way of defenses."

"See if you can firm up a plan. You and I have another forty or fifty good years left in us, Tamman. If we can get the resources the Empire needs, we can end the Klingon menace to us once and for all. Imagine putting the boot of the Empire on the necks of the Vulcans _and_ the Klingons."

"Just as long as we don't have to eat their food. One bowl of gagh was enough for a lifetime."


	16. Fantasy and Reality

Chapter 16 - Fantasy and Reality

April 24, 2156 0800 – _Enterprise_ Bridge, en route to Earth (Sol III)

Captain Archer was not happy. He had given the senior staff a full night's rest and now he intended to push them hard. This was supposed to be a milk run, ferrying politicians to and from Andoria. Now the representatives were asking questions and if he didn't get some good answers Starfleet was going to have his ass. He made the morning meeting a stand-up around the chart table instead of lounging in the conference room. Maybe he had been letting everyone get too soft.

Phlox arrived last. As he made his way to the table, Archer dove right in.

"Yesterday we nearly lost the ship and all hands, along with a group of politicians and Earth's first shield generators. I want a report on what happened, what the root causes of the incident were and how we can avoid that kind of problem in the future.

Travis and I will dig into the autohelm and navigational data. T'Pol, please assign someone from astrophysics to look over the sensor logs with us. Trip, you and T'Pol figure out why the EPS grid constricted. Doctor, a brief rundown on the medical response. Hoshi, Malcolm, you're off the hook for this one. T'Pol, I want you to get the report assembled by tomorrow morning.

Any questions? OK, this is top priority until it's done. Malcolm, you have the conn for alpha shift. Dismissed."

April 24, 2156 0820 – _Enterprise_ Engineering, en route to Earth (Sol III)

Tucker assembled the alpha shift engineering team and rousted Kelby out of bed. The gamma shift team was still on duty. Igrilan and Melek had made a habit of coming to Engineering right after breakfast and were standing in the back.

"OK, listen up, everybody. We had a major incident last night and we damn near all got killed. If Melek hadn't been able to dive in, we might not be here. I think we responded pretty well, but I want to see recommendations to improve on that, especially with plasma leaks that are time critical. Most importantly, I want to come up with the root cause. We shouldn't be getting constrictions in the EPS grid, and we sure as hell shouldn't be getting constrictions that unbalance the warp field. If it turns out that we've been falling behind on maintenance, I guarantee you that everyone will be scrubbing plasma conduits from here to Pulsar PJ whatever the hell it is."

"Commander?"

"Yes, Igrilan?"

"Standing waves are often caused by problems in the control system. Melek and I track this stuff down all the time back at the plant. We'd be happy to help look into it."

"That sounds like a good idea. Kelby, how about you work with Melek and Igrilan. Hess, you and the gamma crew grab four hours of sleep and get back here. Everybody else, you're with me."

April 24, 2156 1415 – _Enterprise_ Engineering, en route to Earth (Sol III)

"Got a minute?" asked Kelby. Igrilan and Melek were in tow.

"Sure," replied Trip, running a hand through his hair. He needed to take a break from the logs anyhow. He and T'Pol had been digging through them for hours.

"We've been running a bunch of simulations. We can't get the simulator to generate a standing wave based on the sensor logs."

"So it shouldn't have happened or the simulator doesn't work. I'm willing to bet the simulator doesn't work for these extreme cases," said Trip. "It's why we're always having to manually balance the EPS grid."

T'Pol spoke up. "There is nothing wrong with the algorithms."

"Well, then how come it's wrong all the time?"

She glared at him.

"Thought so. There's no _logical_ reason for it to be wrong unless it's busted."

"If you two are finished, we have some ideas," said Melek.

"OK, what are you thinking?"

Kelby said, "Melek has the Kralek EPS simulator software on her portable. The portable doesn't have enough oomph to simulate this event, though. We want to install it on the mainframe and see if we get different results."

April 24 2156, 1730 - _Enterprise_ Conference Room, C Deck, en route to Earth (Sol III)

Kelby and the Andorians had run the scenario five times, checking and rechecking all of the parameters. Every time they had gotten the same results as the Starfleet simulator.

Kelby said, "Well, I guess there's nothing wrong with our simulator. This scenario must have just been an overmatch for the software."

Igrilan shook his head. "No, I've seen much weirder cases handled properly. I trust the code. Why don't we start checking for discrepancies in the model? Do you want to use your software to do that? You're probably more familiar with it."

"Well, we can I suppose. But you're talking about weeks' worth of work."

"Why would you say that? It should only take a few hours!"

"Well, there are an awful lot of data points to check."

"Don't you have the tools to look for errors like that?"

"No, do you?"

"Are Humans pink? Of course!"

Melek smacked Igrilan in the back of the head. "Play nice, remember?"

Kelby smiled. "I would love to see," he said eagerly. He was supposed to be rotating off _Enterprise_ finally, hopefully to a Chief Engineer berth on another NX class ship. This might be just the experience he needed to clinch that berth.

April 24, 2156 1945 – _Enterprise_ Engineering, en route to Earth (Sol III)

"You require sustenance. We should break for dinner," said T'Pol.

Trip said, "I want to keep at this a little bit longer."

"Commander?" Kelby and the Andorians were back.

"Oh, hi guys. Any progress?"

"I think we're doing good. We tried the Andorian software and got the same results."

"Hah! The Andorian software sucks too! I knew it!"

Melek said, "No! This software has been used for centuries. I know you prefer poking at things to analysis, Commander, but you need to open your mind a little. We were confident in the algorithms, so we started looking for discrepancies in the model."

"Did you find any?"

Kelby replied, "Melek and Igrilan identified several possible problem spots. We think that some conduits are reporting the wrong values for their field strengths."

"You have got to be shitting me," Trip said, eyes wide.

"We 'shit' you not," said Igrilan.

Kelby continued, "I want to pull a suspect conduit and put it in the test rig. They're mostly pretty buried, but there's one on E deck I think we can get to in a few hours."

"Well, put together a work crew. I'm going to break for dinner. If you haven't, I'd say now was a good time, before digging into it. T'Pol and I will get the test rig set up after dinner."

April 24, 2156 2015 – _Enterprise_ Mess, en route to Earth (Sol III)

Trip and T'Pol had finished their meals and were trying to relax for a moment. Trip had switched to coffee. T'Pol caught the fragrance from across the table. She believed it smelled much better than it tasted.

"Do you think I'm close minded, T'Pol?"

"Are you concerned about Melek's comment?"

"Maybe. I just don't think of myself as close minded, so it's a little hard to get that thrown at you."

"I do recall a number of comments about Vulcans that you made in years past."

He rolled his tongue in his cheek. "Well, I can remember a number of comments about Humans that you made in years past."

"We are not talking about me." She looked at him over her mug as she took a sip of tea.

"Uh-huh. All kidding aside, what do you think?"

"Andorians are prone to hyperbole. In most areas, I would not call you close-minded. You do, however, have a strong preference for intestinal feelings over logical analysis."

"'Gut feelings.' Well, I guess I've just been let down too many times by the theory boys. They never seem to understand the real world."

"And yet all of the technology surrounding us is based on theory. As we gain experience, we modify our theories to match reality. Much of what we do is still very new to Humans. Melek is right: the Andorians have long experience with many of these systems."

"Well, so do Vulcans. I thought we were learning from you."

"Different species do things in different ways. Perhaps Andorian ways are a better match for Human ways."

"Well, they do seem more practical. I could get behind that."

April 24, 2156 2315 – _Enterprise_ E deck, en route to Earth (Sol III)

Three meters of deck plates had been pulled up. Cables, sensors, pumps, fans and other pieces of the complicated machine that kept them all alive were piled on either side of the gap.

Kelby and Rostov got the last few pieces out of the way, handing them to Kelly to check against the schematics of the area and stack them. Kelby pulled out his communicator. "Kelby to Engineering. Let's shut down the flow through path E-14."

"Aye aye, sir," came back through the comm.

They checked the plasma flow twice with different meters, making absolutely sure the conduit was dead before shutting down the magnetic field, draining the coolant and removing the suspect section of EPS conduit.

"I'll take this up to the lab and put it on the bench. Get the replacement section installed and tested, but let's leave it dry for now."

Trip and T'Pol were waiting in the lab. Melek and Igrilan arrived while Trip and Kelby were putting the conduit into the test bench.

"OK, Kelby, light her up and see what happens."

Kelby punched the start button. Plasma began to flow from the EPS grid through the test rig into the conduit section. They turned their attention to the information on the display.

"Son of a bitch. It's off by three percent," said Trip. He smacked the test rig.

"How can that be? The sensors are triply redundant," said Kelby.

"Bad batch of sensors and someone skipped the flow test," said Igrilan. "I've seen it before. Kralek sent Director Talarak over to deal with the supplier." He chuckled. "We didn't get any more bad parts from them, did we, Melek?" He elbowed her. "Ow!" he yipped as her return elbow sent him stumbling.

"Suppliers do not perform complete testing? On criticality one parts?" asked T'Pol. "Don't they understand the danger?"

The other four traded looks. Trip said, "I guess Vulcan doesn't really run on a profit motive, does it, T'Pol?" The four non-Vulcans laughed. T'Pol was silent.

April 25, 2156 1100 – _Enterprise_ Conference Room, C deck, en route to Earth (Sol III)

Senior staff plus Kelby were ready to present their findings to the Captain. The Andorians, including Director Talarak, were present as observers. T'Pol had stayed up all night organizing and checking the information. She had substituted a long shower for sleep and meditation. She deemed her appearance acceptable.

She started with Phlox's report. Medical had responded well. The findings from astrophysics and the helm logs were straightforward. The obstacle had been identified as a class 4 quantum black hole, with a mass approximately equivalent to that of Mars. Its flight vector would be entered into the database as a hazard to navigation. Other than a radical improvement in sensor range, no way to avoid them had been identified.

Then she described the EPS problems and launched into the miscalibrated conduits. She had Archer's full attention now.

"That's not good. Why wasn't this problem detected earlier?" he asked.

Kelby spoke up. "The conduits are only a few percent off. The problem sections are really hard to get to – I don't think any of them have been bench tested since the ship was built. It took three hours to pull the one we did test. We're assuming the others are the same but we haven't had time to tear into them. One is right under the portside impulse engine. I don't think we're going to get to it short of space dock."

Trip said, "I have been after that damn problem for years. Those…geniuses back at the Warp Five Center kept telling me that the software just wasn't up to it and to go ahead and balance it out by hand instead."

Archer said, "I can't believe it. And you're saying that the Andorian software has functions to find these kinds of problems, but ours doesn't?"

"That's right," said Kelby. "After Melek and Igrilan showed them to me, I went through our manual top to bottom and couldn't find anything similar."

Archer's jaw worked. "T'Pol, why don't we have those tools in our software? Is this something _else_ the Vulcans have held back from us?" he bit out.

T'Pol hadn't been hit with a blast of fury like this from Archer in quite a while. She took a moment to think before answering, "I was never involved in Engineering on a Vulcan ship, so I have only used the version on Enterprise. I can make inquiries with the manufacturer. I would speculate, however, that such functions do not exist in the package. Conduits manufactured on Vulcan would not exhibit any discrepancies and hence there would be no need for tools to find those kinds of problems."

"Mistakes are illogical," said Trip.

"Precisely," answered T'Pol.

"Well, Cap'n, it sounds like we need to get the boys at BuShips to talk with Director Talarak while she's on Earth. You may have just found another market, Director."

"She may have. So let's be perfectly clear. If those conduits had been working properly, would the constrictions have formed?"

"No," answered Kelby.

Trip shook his head. "John Glenn said it about his rocket: 'Twenty thousand components, all built by the lowest bidder.'"

April 25, 2156 1900 – T'Pol's quarters on _Enterprise_, en route to Earth (Sol III)

She pleaded exhaustion to Trip and ate alone in her room. She was indeed tired, but, more than that, the events of the last few days had been disturbing. She wanted time to process them.

She turned the lights down and lit three candles to help her meditation. She seated herself on the pillows and watched a candle for a minute, then closed her eyes. She began concentrating on breathing, trying to clear her mind.

Once she had cleared her mind, she spent exactly five minutes in that state, thinking of nothing more complex than when to take the next breath. With a calmed mind, she now began analyzing the events, trying to make sense of her emotional responses and see if there was actually any logic behind them.

Her predominant emotion had been fear. First, fear that the ship was in danger. Then, fear that Trip had been seriously injured. And then, after the crisis was resolved, fear of something else had started to rise as they went through the investigation. She couldn't identify exactly what the final fear was yet.

Fear of death was normal. Examining her actions, she believed that she had controlled her fear and performed properly during the crisis. That was easy to analyze and put away.

Fear for Trip was harder and definitely mixed together with the knowledge that their mate bond was still intact. Was she afraid for Trip or was she afraid for herself? It was obvious now that if Trip died, she would be affected no matter what the state of their relationship was. The existence of the mate bond concerned her. She wasn't against being bonded to Trip, but she wanted to have a choice. She knew Trip also wanted to have a choice. This was an old fear, though; it just hadn't surfaced for a long time. If her relationship with Trip evolved into what she wished for, these fears would disappear. She boxed them away, understood but not resolved.

The last fear, though… its cause eluded her. She had felt it first when they laughed about skimping on the testing. She was used to being laughed at, so that wasn't it. There was no hostile intent. She had felt it again when the Captain became angry. It wasn't the angry outburst; she had become accustomed to those. No, there was some common thread.

She mulled it over some more. Perhaps it was the growing closeness between the Andorians and the Humans that troubled her. It was both the personal relationships being forged on the ship, and the greater relationship between the two species, being forged from trade and cultural similarities.

Vulcans had difficulties dealing with Andorians. They were so extreme in their emotions, it was painful to interact with them, especially in stressful situations. Humans were more moderate, better natured. They were _almost_ logical, and sometimes able to appreciate and follow the path of Surak.

She had worked hard and sacrificed much to bridge the two races. Would the Humans end up being closer with the Andorians? Would they ally together against Vulcan?

That was a valid fear.

It was more than that, though. Trip liked the Andorians. He had said that he wanted a relationship with her, but did he really? She wanted him, but was it just a fantasy? She wanted a mate for life. Would he always be happy with someone like herself, from a culture so different, someone who always needed guidance through the emotional landscape? She thought back to Amanda Cole slapping Trip on his buttocks, then had a sudden flash of Trip with a tall Andorian woman.

No, it's wasn't just fear. Her eyes opened and her nostrils flared. It was also jealousy. But of whom? Melek had shown no interest in Trip and vice versa. Perhaps she wanted him to look to her for answers, not elsewhere. That was childish. And yet it was still there. Is that what a marriage with Trip would give her – a lifetime of uncertainty and petty jealousies? Life had been so much simpler before she had been assigned to this ship. Of course, it had also been much more mundane.

There was no easy resolution to this. She wrapped it away for another day, and turned her attention back to breathing. Sometimes it was very agreeable to not think.

_Author's note: Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing! If you haven't added a review, they're always appreciated, even a one liner._


	17. The Case of the Chocolate Herring

Chapter 17 - The Case of the Chocolate Herring

_7 months earlier_

September 15, 2155 1200 – V'Shar headquarters, Shi'Kahr, Vulcan

It was time for the noon break. Deputy Director for Foreign Intelligence, Sepek, mentally reviewed his plan for the afternoon. He deemed his risks acceptable. In the wake of the Vulcan Civil War and V'Las' disappearance, the V'Shar had been subjected to a full-scale investigation. The most obvious of Administrator V'Las' co-conspirators had been interrogated and found to be merely supporting his ambitions. They were returned to civilian life.

Sepek had held his position for many years, predating the V'Las administration. The purge had passed him by and the new Minister of Security, V'Tek, apparently found him agreeable.

V'Tek had ordered another, even more intensive, internal sweep and three suspected spies had been identified. One of them had been interrogated and found to be in the employ of the Andorians. Two had disappeared before they could be arrested.

The investigation had been finished for months now. Sepek could wait no longer. He deplored the hold that this foreign influence had over him and vowed, again, that this would be the last time.

He took his special briefcase from the closet. He spoke to his administrative assistant, T'Jan, as he passed her desk.

"I left some papers at my apartment. I will return by 1500 hours." She had helped him with his pon farr after his wife had died. They were not bonded, but one couldn't go through the experience without some sentiment forming. What would she think of him if she knew of his weakness?

"Yes, Director. I will tell any callers that you are not available until then." She began tidying her own desk in preparation for her lunch break.

September 15, 2155 1200 – Ministry of Defense, Shi'Kahr, Vulcan

The disappearance of two suspected spies made it clear that the V'Shar had been penetrated at the very top levels. V'Tek had declared the investigation to be complete. He and Administrator T'Pau had then formed a secret team drawn from the Ministry of Defense to continue investigating. Mind melds conducted by T'Pau herself had assured the loyalty of the team.

Sub Commander Taurik was diligently watching his screens. The top staff of the V'Shar had been under round-the-clock surveillance for months now. None of them had displayed any unusual behavior, but the watchers persevered. Patience was a Vulcan virtue – in this case it served both sides. Taurik once again found himself wishing that they could simply perform interrogations via mind meld and once again dismissed the thought as illogical. The V'Shar's top staff had long been trained in protecting their secrets against melders.

Most of the V'Shar personnel were on the move inside the building as they headed for lunch. The Deputy Director for Foreign Intelligence, Sepek, was stepping out of the turbolift on the ground floor.

Most days Sepek ate at the cafeteria in the Ministry of Security building. On four occasions in the last three months he had eaten at nearby restaurants. Today he was carrying a briefcase. This was out of character.

September 15, 2155 1204 – V'Shar headquarters, Shi'Kahr, Vulcan

Sepek exited the gates of the Ministry. Agents were already in motion walking in both directions. Sepek turned right and V'Tar, the lead agent, fell in behind him at a comfortable distance. It was the hottest part of the day and the streets were quiet.

Sepek walked to the nearby autotaxi queue point. There was no line and he got into the first taxi. V'Tar continued walking until the taxi was out of sight then called in its ID. A few moments later a nondescript hovercar with another agent inside pulled up. V'Tar got in and they drove off.

"What is his destination?" he asked.

"The address given was his apartment building."

They rode in silence. Within a few minutes they caught up with the autotaxi and fell in several hundred meters behind it. V'Tar called in to Taurik, "Fifteen to control. We have eyes on the target now."

V'Tar had the autotaxi's registered route displayed on a PADD. He was planning the point where they should stop their car and exit when the autotaxi made a turn.

"Fifteen to control. Target has turned off designated route," came out of the speaker in the control room.

Taurik checked a screen. It showed the autotaxi still on its original route. "Confirm vehicle id," he said.

V'Tar read off the autotaxi's ID over the comm. It matched.

Taurik began working rapidly, rerouting agents to the vicinity of V'Tar's hovercar. Sepek had just tipped his hand. Now, all they had to do was keep him under surveillance. He ordered the tactical team to get their shuttle airborne.

Within a few minutes Taurik's other teams caught up with Sepek's autotaxi. One hovercar began a forward tail, turning in from a cross street a block ahead. V'Tar's vehicle turned off to parallel Sepek's course.

Sepek's autotaxi left the central district of Shi'Kahr, heading east, toward the foreign quarter. High-rise buildings gave way to smaller buildings and the broad avenue it was following began to narrow. As they entered the foreign quarter, trees began to appear: an illogical waste of water in Shi'Kahr's climate in Sepek's view.

The autotaxi slowed and halted. Sepek exited and began walking unhurriedly down the street. V'Tar exited his hovercar at the far end of the block. Sepek entered a storefront with dark tinted windows so quickly and unobtrusively that V'Tar almost missed it. There was no indication of what the store sold. On the door, small gilt English letters spelled out "Rhiannon."

V'Tar walked past the shop and around the corner. The tactical team's shuttle landed in the street. V'Tar found their sublieutenant as they disembarked from the shuttle.

He quickly explained the tactical situation, showing the shop on a PADD. "In addition to the front door there is a back door on this service passage. We will do a simultaneous entry. Stun everyone inside. We cannot allow them the time to suicide."

The black clad tactical team positioned themselves out of sight of the front and rear of the shop and, hopefully, out of sight of any surveillance cameras. At the signal, they rushed to their positions and burst through the front door, front window and rear door. They stunned Sepek and the white clad, mostly Human, staff precisely and quickly.

Deputy Director for Foreign Intelligence Sepek slumped over his insulated briefcase, now filled with an assortment of fine chocolates and a cooling pack.

September 15, 2155 1235 – V'Shar headquarters, Shi'Kahr, Vulcan

Taurik calmed himself. Chocolate? All this effort to hide his chocolate addiction? Sometimes these older Vulcans were completely illogical to him. Yes, indulging in the imported candy was frowned upon; it had semi-narcotic effects on Vulcans, but it was not illegal. There was no need to go to this level of cloak and dagger to hide it. Sepek had allowed his paranoia and pride to set himself up as a person of interest and now an object of ridicule if this ever became known.

This was going to be a mess to explain and clean up. He was composing a secure message to Security Minister V'Tek when a message, urgent in green, flashed on his screen.

_T'Jan exiting subway at Old Market station. Require backup or 76 percent probability of losing contact._

Taurik paled. He had focused too much on Sepek. He calmed himself again and began quickly redeploying his forces.

September 15, 2155 1238 – Old Market, Shi'Kahr, Vulcan

Sublieutenant Varek tailed T'Jan up out of the subway. He had been in the next car since she had boarded near V'Shar headquarters. This was far too long for one agent to shadow a subject, especially one trained as an operative. His expected replacement had never arrived; only a terse message telling him he was to continue with the surveillance. He couldn't afford to get too close – alerting the subject to the surveillance was as bad as losing them.

If they had gotten agents in place before they arrived at the market, there was a good chance of continuing the surveillance. He reached the top of the staircase and looked around for a moment as if getting his bearings. T'Jan was not in sight.

The woman known on Vulcan as T'Jan walked calmly through the narrow alleyways of the Old Market. She was highly trained in countersurveillance tradecraft. The Romulan Star Empire had been infiltrating agents into Vulcan for nearly a century. The Vulcans were unaware that agents who looked like them, smelled like them and were able to outthink them walked on their planet. She was the apex of their infiltration of the Vulcan government. Only V'Las, a native Vulcan, had been higher placed.

After V'Las had been deposed she had gotten her agents in the Ministry of Security out successfully before the internal probe caught them. In retrospect, she should have left then but she was the last agent in the government and Romulus needed information.

She had caught wind of the surveillance by the Ministry of Defense shortly after it began. It was sheer luck that V'Tek's assistant had made an unguarded comment when they were working together on a project. She knew that once the Vulcans had turned their attention to the top levels of the V'Shar it was only a matter of time before they dug deep enough to expose her. She had requested and received permission to return to Romulus and had been waiting for the right moment. She had been Sepek's administrative assistant for twelve years and she had figured out his chocolate addiction long ago, as well as his overly paranoid methods to avoid it being exposed – those same methods which were sure to trigger a heavy reaction if he were actually under surveillance. When he had walked out the door with his insulated briefcase she had known today was her best chance to escape.

The Old Market, with its narrow, shaded streets, was busy even with the heat. She made several maneuvers to throw off a tail and altered her appearance gradually. Satisfied that she was not being followed, she walked a few blocks to the next subway station and disappeared into the system.

September 15, 2155 2045 – City outskirts, Shi'Kahr, Vulcan

Epsilon Eridani had set and the desert was rapidly cooling. T'Jan had spent the afternoon in a rented storage space, preparing for her exit of Shi'Kahr. The Romulan safe house was deep within the Forge, underground. There she would wait until a cloaked Galae s'Shiar courier came to pick her up.

With the rediscovery of the Kir'Shara many Vulcans now made pilgrimages into the Forge. T'Jan wore a hooded cloak and carried a staff like they did. In her pack were necessities for travel along with the information ordered by Fleet Intelligence.

She exited the city and set off down the path into the desert.

September 15, 2155 2055 – Ministry of Security, Shi'Kahr, Vulcan

Taurik had notified Minister V'Tek when T'Jan failed to return from her lunch break. V'Tek had decided to bring the investigation out into the open and now all of the machinery of the Ministry of Security was brought to bear.

The surveillance control system had all of T'Jan's identifying information. It reached into security cameras across the planet and monitored payment transactions, transportation bookings, communications and network accesses.

Taurik was still the lead agent but his staff had suddenly increased by a factor of ten. He had moved into the surveillance control center at the Ministry of Security. Before, he had been limited by the amount of surveillance data his small team could gather. Now, he had a fire hose pointed at him. He had experts to help him filter it but they were coming into the case cold. False alerts had kept them busy all afternoon.

An alert filtered up to his screen. Gait analysis had an 80% match on a pilgrim exiting the city.

"Backtrack the video surveillance. I want a positive ID," he ordered.

September 15, 2155 2120 – Desert near Shi'Kahr, Vulcan

T'Jan heard the shuttle as it sped through the night air. She looked up into the sky and saw it as a black blob against the stars. They had to be coming after her or they would have their navigation lights on.

She threw back the hood of her cloak and watched the shuttle as it approached. _Just a little closer_, she thought. She allowed herself a moment of regret, then smiled fiercely as she triggered the milligram of antimatter in her staff. The resulting fireball, the equivalent of detonating 40 tons of TNT, consumed her and swatted the shuttle and the tactical team onboard xout of the air.

_One week later_

September 22, 2155 0900 – Administrator T'Pau's office, Shi'Kahr, Vulcan

"We have completed our investigation into T'Jan's identity, Administrator," explained V'Tek. "We were unable to recover any remains but her DNA was part of her security biometrics. We crosschecked it with skin flakes retrieved from her apartment and work area and it appears to be accurate.

A complete background check was made when she began working for the Ministry of Security, 24.3 years ago. All computer records verify; her birth record, school records, employment, bank history. Her parents were both listed as deceased. Workers at their supposed places of employment before their deaths, however, do not remember them. Her foreparents appear to be fictitious as well. Her second foreparents were real, but their DNA cannot be combined to create hers.

No combination of Vulcan citizens in the right age range could produce her DNA. However, it is fully Vulcan and has all of the right genetic markers. She received numerous health exams at the Ministry of Security and there were no anomalies in her scans."

"So we have a Vulcan who can't exist spying on us for an unknown power. And our databases have been fully penetrated."

"Yes. We also applied the same kind of analysis to the two missing Ministry employees. Their records are similar."

"Where did these people come from then?"

"Our working theory is that they were born off-world, possibly to traders. Or, they may be complete genetic constructs, assembled by a foreign power to spy on us. It is quite probable they were raised without logic. The shuttle's cameras captured her final moments. She _smiled_ before triggering the bomb."

"A nice theory, but who would be doing this? This is far too sophisticated for any of our neighbors to execute."

"I don't know Administrator. I intend to find out. We will tighten our security further. This will not be allowed to happen again."

_Two weeks later_

September 25, 2155 1530 – Administrator T'Pau's office, Shi'Kahr, Vulcan

Former Administrator Sopok, the predecessor to V'Las, had retired forty years before. Past his second century, he was frail but still stood erect and walked without aid, if a bit slowly.

T'Pau skipped even minimal Vulcan courtesies, as always, only offering him a chair. "Why did you wish to meet with me, Sopok?"

"I understand that we have spies in our midst, Vulcans who do not exist."

"Where did you hear that?"

"I was Administrator of the High Command for fifty years. I have my sources, T'Pau."

"Have you come with an answer for me, then?"

"Perhaps. I was not sure if your administration would last, and I didn't think the matter urgent. However, it is time that I pass on some information that we do not keep in written form.

I have come here today to tell you about the Rihannsu."


	18. Wash and Spin

_Author's Note: Thanks as always to Alelou for her fine beta work._

Chapter 18 – Wash and spin

May 21, 2156 1600 – _Enterprise_, in orbit around Earth (Sol III)

The remainder of the return voyage to Earth had gone smoothly. _Enterprise_ was now connected to Spacedock, which had grown quite a bit since their last refit. Archer turned the ship over to T'Pol and caught the next shuttle down to HQ. He carried a briefcase and another bag with several wrapped bottles in it.

The shuttle sped down across the Pacific and arrived at Starfleet Headquarters half an hour later. Gathering his two bags, Archer walked off the shuttle into a bright but chilly day. The wind blew off the San Francisco Bay and there were sailboats scudding across the waves and giant container ships lumbering in and out. He paused, took a deep breath of the sea air and then continued on. He loved spaceflight, but it was always nice to breath fresh air.

He went down the walkway and into the main building. Both hands full, he nodded, somewhat bemused, to personnel who saluted him as he passed. He missed the old days when everyone just waved.

He had his retinas scanned, DNA checked and signature verified, then passed into the secure area, and reached Admiral Gardner's office. Gardner had an excellent view of the water from his large office. It held his desk, a couch, a small conference table and an "I Love Me" wall full of pictures of Gardner with various people along with plaques and mementos.

"Jon, right on time. Come on in, have a seat. You did good negotiating with the Blue Meanies!"

"Thanks, Sam! If you can survive getting drunk with them, they're easy to work with."

"All that practice we used to do paid off. Those shield generators are a key part of our defense plan."

"Are we still installing the first one in _Enterprise_?"

"Well, that depends on whether you brought anything back for me."

Jon started pulling bottles out of the bag. "As requested, Andorian ale. This is supposed to be the really top end stuff."

"Excellent! Appropriations time is coming up. This should help grease the skids a bit. We've got some other goodies we want to get installed on _Enterprise_. We've got you scheduled for a few weeks out at Jupiter Station."

"Trip's going to love that. While I've got you in a good mood, I wanted to float a mission proposal that we've been working on."

"OK, lay it on me."

"We're calling it TREC, for Transect – Reconnaissance, Exploration, Contact." It had taken nearly as long to decide on the name as it had to put together the actual plan. Hoshi had finally come up with it.

"We'd go out 250 light years, surveying and exploring, turn, cut across 50 light years, then turn again and head home – total mission time would be five years."

Jon went on to explain the benefits of TREC, the real deep space exploration they would accomplish. He waxed eloquent about astrometry and cultural contacts and potential colony sites and the pulsar at the end of the first leg. Gardner listened without interruption.

Jon wrapped it up. "Now, I think this is what we really designed the NX class for. They're not designed as warships. We've got science labs and cargo bays where a warship would have more munitions. And our crew has more experience dealing with alien species than any other crew in Starfleet. Now, I know that you rely on _Enterprise_ for a lot, but we're the best ship for a long range exploration mission." He prepared himself for all the counter arguments.

Gardner smiled and said, "OK."

Jon felt like he had been running to break down a door and it had suddenly been opened in front of him.

"OK?"

"Yep, OK. This fits together nicely with some of our other plans. I was going to ask you to come up with a deep space mission soon and this sounds like a good one."

"You're not going to tell me I'm needed here more?

'Do you want me to?"

"Well, no, but I was kind of expecting it."

Gardner chuckled. "Jon, I've had the Prime Minister's office oh so subtly inquiring for months about your schedule and when you would be off-planet."

Jon was stunned. "I thought I was doing a good job as a diplomat."

"Well, as a matter of fact you are. But the politicos want you out of the limelight."

"Why?"

"Jon, what part of 'elected official' do you not understand? Every time there's a photo op and Jonathan Archer's face shows up instead of Minister Samuels or some other gas merchant, that's so much less exposure for them. They need to be seen as the ones who are important."

"I guess I'll just never understand politics."

"Believe me, it's not a lot of fun. You'd better be prepared for it, though. After you get back from this mission you're going to have three choices: become an admiral, go into politics, or retire. Unless you're planning to retire, you're going to have to get good at politicking and glad-handing."

"Ugh."

"Well, you should see it from where I'm sitting. I miss those days when we were flying the NX prototypes during the day and drinking all night. I never thought I'd be a desk jockey, but here I am. If _I'd_ gotten the nod for _Enterprise_, it might be _you_ sitting behind this desk."

Jon laughed. "Thanks for taking that bullet for me." He shook his head. "I used to watch Max and he always made it look so easy."

"Yeah, he did. I miss him every day." Gardner took a moment to look out the window.

He continued on, "There's another reason we want ships out in the deep besides exploration. Have you ever heard of a place called Svalbard?"

"No, what is it? Some Tellarite planet?"

"Closer to home. It's in Norway. They've got Earth's largest stockpile of genetic material. It got started back in the late twentieth century with plant seeds and they've kept on expanding it. At this point, they've got the genome for every known living species as well as quite a few extinct species as well.

They came to Starfleet while you were out in the Expanse with the idea of putting together a complete genetic library and placing it in a safe location. Svalbard used to be that place; they have a facility buried deep in the permafrost. The Xindi attack made it obvious that wasn't safe enough. We made up the first copy and stashed it out at Alpha Centauri."

"So, you want us to deliver a library somewhere else? How about the Vulcans?"

"We'll probably leave one with them. No, I want _Enterprise_ to carry one on this mission. In fact I want all of the NX class ships equipped with one. You'll be the final backup. We've also got a cultural library with everything in it. We're going to start making sure that there are copies of the complete libraries somewhere far away from Earth at all times. If the unthinkable happens, you'll be able to start over again."

"Sounds like good insurance. It's all secured against unauthorized access?"

"The crypto boys assure me it's locked up tight. You'll have the keys, on paper. And tell Tucker that he's not allowed to break into it for movies or I'll have his ass."

Jon laughed. "I'll be sure to make that very clear to Commander Tucker."

Gardner got up from his desk and walked over to the sideboard. "Sun's over the yardarm. Want a snort?"

"Don't mind if I do."

The Admiral got glasses and ice out of the sideboard and poured a couple of glasses of Scotch. He motioned Jon to sit down at the small conference table.

"I'm on board with this mission and we have good operational reasons for sending you out into the deep. So, consider it a done deal from Starfleet's point of view. I'll ramrod it through. Ops will want to make some changes, of course, but the basic mission parameters will remain. However, we're going to have to get the civilians on board, and then we're going to have to sell this to all of the Coalition governments."

"I thought you just told me that Samuels wanted me out of town." Jon swirled the Scotch around in his glass.

"Yes, he does, but as soon as he hears you're going, he's going to have an anxiety attack and want you around as a security blanket. It's going to be your job to sell this to him and I want to make sure you've got the ammo. You've been out of the loop on Earth's defenses, so I want to give you a little rundown on those."

Jon perked up a bit. "We were hailed about a light day out and _Vineta_ gave us a quick visual look over before we were cleared in. That's new."

"Yes. I've got five ships out there. We can get a ship onto any vector within ten minutes. Now your comments about the NX class not being a warship were dead on; we always knew that. We've got a new class of warship, the _Bunker Hill_ class, on the way. They've got a detuned version of the Warp 5 engine. It's only good to about Warp 4.5 but it will run all day and you don't need Trip Tucker to baby it."

"I saw one of those at Spacedock, I think. But we're going to need a lot of ships. I didn't see that much activity up there."

"That's because we're not building ships in space anymore."

"What? Where are you building them, then?"

"Well, Iowa is one place. Finland, South Korea, Mississippi, Italy, and China are some others."

"But it's so much easier to put things together in zero-gee!"

"Well, yes and no. The Vulcans were hot on getting us to build in space and all of the space nuts were too. And it works well from a technical point of view. The problem is that a lot of building a ship is just welding and plumbing and pulling wires. Doing that in an EV suit is hard. Have you ever seen the accident statistics on first year workers at Spacedock?"

"No, I never looked at those," Jon said thoughtfully.

"They're not good. We couldn't get enough people trained and working up there to expand the fleet the way we need to. After the Xindi attack, we were looking at any way we could to increase production. We were even talking about building giant pressurized hangars in orbit for a while. Then, Admiral Jeffries had a brain fart and looked into building ships at existing shipyards. Starships are built pretty rugged so it was a good fit."

"Since when does Iowa have shipyards?"

"What prominent politician hails from the Great State of Iowa?"

"Oh – Minister deForrest, of course." deForrest was the Defense Minister. Politics made Jon's head spin. Yes, this mission was going to be a good idea – at least when he was dealing with aliens he didn't have to think about their pork barrel projects.

"So, we're cranking out ships. We've got forty on the ways to be launched this year and eighty are scheduled for next year. In addition to the _Bunker Hill_ class, there's the new _Mercury_ class of courier ships. Those can cruise at Warp 5 and they'll be good for all of the diplomatic missions you've been covering. And, _Discovery_ is almost finished and we have four more NX class vessels planned: _Atlantis_, _Challenger_, _Endeavour_ and _Beagle_."

Jon laughed. "Porthos will like that!"

"So, I think we can spare one NX class for deep space exploration. I'll set you up for a more detailed briefing later on but those are the high points. Oh, and whatever you do, don't mention that theory about the pulsar being engineered. In fact, you need to pick a different endpoint, something a few light years off, and make sure there's no mention of that pulsar in the unclassified materials."

"What's the big deal?"

Gardner looked at him, sighed and said, "Jon, after the Xindi attack any hint of big bad aliens will have the politicians hiding under their desks. You really have to get out more."

"I guess I hadn't looked at it that way. T'Pol and I just thought it would be pretty interesting to investigate."

"Well, you need to start thinking politically. You can do what you want if you can sell it. Now, you know all of the Coalition Council members and I'll leave it up to you on how to spin it with them. Your goal is to get all of the horse-trading done and any objections satisfied in private, one on one, before the vote comes. The Japanese call it _nemawashi_. You want everyone lined up and on board so there's no debate in the council chamber. Once they start talking, there's no telling what they'll get up to. This should be minor business on the Coalition Council agenda. Your job is to make sure it is."

Archer took another sip of Scotch. "You know, I really miss when Max used to do all of this for me."

"I do too. Welcome to the big time, Jon."


	19. Letter of Marque and Reprisal

Chapter 19 - Letter of Marque and Reprisal

_Author's note: Thanks to Alelou for her advice on characterization. If you think it's good, that's her influence; if not, well, that's me.  
_

June 2, 2156 0845 – _Enterprise_, at Jupiter Station (Sol V)

Trip hated working in an EV suit. The gloves were bulky and made it impossible to do any fine work. The suit was heavy and stiff and he couldn't scratch the itch that invariably formed in the small of his back. And no matter how much they were disinfected they always had a little bit of locker room odor, just that whiff he could almost smell. Even in an EV suit, though, he was sure he was having more fun than the Captain was back on Earth. Trip was more than happy to steer clear of politics.

They were installing _Enterprise's_ new shield generator today. They'd spent the last week installing the shield emitters in various places on the hull and routing the waveguides down to the shield generator compartment on F deck.

It was a big job and he'd had thirty engineers from Jupiter Station working with the _Enterprise_ crew to install the waveguides. Commander Sutter, Jupiter Station's Chief Engineer, had wanted to run them in the same ducts as the EPS conduits to save work. The Andorians had argued against that, but it wasn't until Trip pulled out his orders from Starfleet giving him full authority that Sutter had finally given in and installed new ductwork as well. Trip was still savoring that moment.

Yesterday, they had depressurized a large section of F deck and spent the day pulling off hull plates and removing equipment to make an opening for the shield generator in its container. Trip was standing on the hull next to the opening along with Igrilan, Hess and Rostov. T'Pol was monitoring the work from the bridge.

The container had been gently removed from the cargo lock by one of the big manipulator arms and was now being delivered to them. With a few minutes to wait, Trip enjoyed the view of Jupiter passing slowly in front of them. They were in a relatively low orbit, and seen from this height Jupiter was like a great flat wall, stretching off in all directions. Contrails stretched across the surface, left by the ramscoops that collected hydrogen from Jupiter to power the antimatter refinery on the other side of the planet, always 180 degrees behind Jupiter Station in orbit.

They were coming up on the night side of Jupiter and on the dark side of the terminator he could see flashes from huge thunderstorms.

"What do you think, Igrilan, does it remind you of home?" he asked.

"A little, but our moon doesn't have so much red and yellow."

"Moon? I thought Andoria _was_ the moon."

"Oh, sorry. The UT must have done a literal translation. There was a time when we believed Procyon VIII went around Andoria. We use its name for any natural satellite in Andorian and I guess it's coming across as the generic in English."

"We don't really have a name for our moon or sun in English either. We call them Luna and Sol but that's just moon and sun in an ancient language. We used to think everything revolved around the Earth as well."

"I bet every race did."

T'Pol's voice came over the comm, "Vulcans did not. The mathematics were obviously wrong from the beginning."

Trip motioned for Igrilan to turn off his comm and touched helmets with him for a moment of privacy. "The real reason Vulcans are vegetarians is that all the game would run away while they were calculating trajectories," Trip said. They both laughed.

Several hours later the generator was installed. Trip was excited. He delegated closing the hull to Hess. Next up was the installation of two auxiliary fusion generators and then they'd be ready to test their new shields out.

June 2, 2156 1422 – _Enterprise _Engineering, at Jupiter Station (Sol V)

"Out of stock? How the hell can they be out of EPS conduits?" he railed to his empty office as he read the memo. They had exhausted _Enterprise's_ inventory of spare EPS conduits replacing the faulty ones and now Supply was telling him there were no more available.

He got Commander Sutter on the view screen. Sutter was fifty-ish, mostly bald with a strip around the edge. He looked at Trip with distaste.

"What is it, Tucker?"

"We need EPS conduits to finish our work, but I just got a memo back from Supply that you're out of stock!"

"I think I heard about that. Sorry, Tucker, but with all the work going on, we're out of all kinds of things. You should have made your requisition ahead of time."

"_Enterprise_ has top priority!"

"Can't give you what I don't have. Anything else? I'm busy." Sutter cut the connection.

Trip decided he needed a walk to get his temper under control. He made his way to the quartermaster's cubbyhole on C deck.

"Hey, Chief, I need to rustle up some EPS conduits."

"Let's see what I can do, Commander." Chief Strauss tapped at his keyboard. "Hmmm, looks like we're out, Jupiter Station's out and the manufacturer is backed up. It's going to be a couple of weeks."

"You think you could scrounge some up? I really want to get the shield generator up and running," said Trip.

"Let me make a few calls. I'll get back to you, sir."

Half an hour later, Strauss popped up on Trip's screen.

"Well, Commander, I have a buddy over in Supply and he says they have some, but they're not allowed to give them to _Enterprise_."

"What?"

"This is off the record – he said Sutter's pissed at you."

"That son of a… well, any suggestions, Chief?"

"They know me, so if I go over they'll be watching me like hawks. I'd say talk to Lieutenant Reed. Somehow the Armory always has everything and I know it doesn't all go through me."

June 2, 2156 1530 – _Enterprise _Armory, at Jupiter Station (Sol V)

Malcolm looked up from the phase rifle he was maintaining as Trip entered.

"Malcolm, old buddy, old pal!"

He knew the 'old buddy, old pal' routine all too well. "If this has anything to do with T'Pol, the answer is 'no'. I don't feel like being stuck to any more walls, thank you."

"No, T'Pol's not involved in this. I need your help getting the shield generator up and running. We need to liberate some EPS conduits from Supply."

"Liberate? You mean steal. I don't feel much like turning pirate today – the brig isn't very comfortable. EPS conduits are standard. What's wrong with just requisitioning them?"

"Sutter's playing some kind of power game. He's taken them out of the database already, so it's not really stealing if they don't exist, is it? Anyhow, _Enterprise_ has priority orders to get the shield generator installed. So, we're not pirates, it's that other thing, what do you call it, when it's legit piracy?"

"A privateer. Why don't you just go over Sutter's head with your orders, then?"

"Captain Tewari is out on sick leave, so I'd have to bump it up to HQ. If there's nothing in the database they're not going to ding him."

"Hmmmm…still a bit dodgy, I'd say. What's in it for me, Commander?" A little excitement might be nice, but he was sure he could get more out of Trip.

"We get to try out the shield generator this week instead of three weeks from now."

"And?"

"My folks went to Hawaii a while back. They sent me a fresh, ripe pineapple in stasis."

"Sold!" Yes, a little action would be fun. It had been so quiet!

June 3, 2156 0930 – Warehouse 2, Jupiter Station (Sol V)

Malcolm zipped along on a small anti-grav scooter. Warehouse 2 was a cavernous room with floor to ceiling racks, bustling with activity. Trip had wanted to make their snatch in the middle of the night, but Malcolm had prevailed. It was much less suspicious to be moving around in the warehouse when it was busy. He dodged around a large cargo hauler as he consulted a PADD. Knowing that the EPS conduits were just hidden in the computer meant it had been trivial to hack the supply database and find where they had been tucked away.

He turned left down an aisle of shelves and then shot the scooter into the air with a twist of the control handle. Quickly locating a pallet of EPS conduits, he attached a transporter tag and then sent a message from the PADD. The pallet disappeared in the twinkle of the transporter. Malcolm left to go pick up the phase pistol power packs he had requisitioned. Fifteen minutes later the pallet reappeared, now loaded with discarded conduits from _Enterprise_.

June 4, 2156 0845 – _Enterprise_, T'Pol's office, Jupiter Station (Sol V)

"Hello, Commander T'Pol. What can I do for you?" Sutter sat up a little bit straighter on the screen as he saw T'Pol's attractive features.

"_Enterprise_ requires the use of the live fire range to test the shielding."

"You're ready to go? How's that possible? Tucker said you needed parts that are on back order."

"I was not informed of the details. Commander Tucker says that the shields are ready for testing."

"Well, things are pretty busy. I'm not sure if I can fit you in for a week or two."

"_Enterprise_ has priority orders for this installation. Testing is required to complete it. Do you need clarification from headquarters?"

Sutter stared at her for a moment, then said "No. We'll get you scheduled in the test range ASAP." He broke the connection.

T'Pol scanned through her old messages. Sutter was right; Trip should not have been able to finish the installation. Where _had_ he gotten those EPS conduits from?

June 5, 2156 1120 – _Enterprise_ Bridge, Jupiter Station live fire range (Sol V)

With Travis at the helm, _Enterprise_ spun and danced through the course, testing the ship's maneuverability with the shields up. Phase cannons mounted on battle platforms tracked and fired at her.

T'Pol perched on the edge of the command chair, anticipating the shudders she was used to when the ship took fire, but they never came, even as the view screen flashed white when phase cannon fire overloaded the cameras.

"How are the shields holding, Lieutenant?" she asked.

"Very well, Commander. We're still at ninety percent even after all those hits. We'd have sustained heavy damage already if we were relying on the hull polarizers." Malcolm smiled fiercely.

"T'Pol to Engineering. Are you ready to move on to photon torpedo testing?"

"We need a five minute hold, T'Pol," came the reply from Trip.

Down in Engineering, the crew was working hard to keep everything smooth. The EPS grid was behaving better than ever but the shield generator was placing new demands on the power generation and keeping the shield balanced was a whole new challenge.

Rostov had received the most training so far in running the shield generator and was manning the controls. It didn't seem to be going well.

"No, no, emitter four was not getting enough power," shouted Melek. "You'll get a burn-through if you don't reroute some power to it."

"I did reroute power," Rostov shouted back.

"Yes, to the wrong emitter, you pink skinned twit!"

"Well, it's this stupid user interface. Nothing in it makes sense!"

Trip intervened. "Fighting isn't going to get us through this test. Melek, didn't you say it takes two months to train an operator? Rostov's only been at it for a week. Cut him some slack."

"Even after a week he should be able to operate it better. Didn't you notice the warning _zelch _when you started sending power the wrong way, Rostov?"

"The warning what?" asked Rostov.

"The _zelch_, the _zelch_! You get a tingle in your antennae."

Rostov waved his hand over his head. "No antennae, see?"

Melek shook her head. "I've been working too much. I completely forgot. We're going to have to reconfigure the user interface."

"OK, well, let's just get through this test. Melek, you run it," said Trip.

June 5, 2156 1720 – _Enterprise_ Situation Room, in orbit around Jupiter (Sol V)

The mood of the non-Vulcans in the After Action Review appeared to be almost jubilant to T'Pol. She, personally, felt the results of the test to be quite acceptable. The only problem area was the issue of operator training and maintenance.

"Before he left, the Captain said we should be planning on leaving in three months at the outside. From what Melek tells me, it takes about that long to train up a shield operator, but that's assuming that the manual isn't changing every day, which it will be as we work the kinks out of the system. And, the innards of that thing are still voodoo to me. Trying to get it repaired in the middle of a battle looks to be a major challenge," said Trip.

"What do you recommend? Should we postpone the transect until we have a fully trained operator?" asked T'Pol.

"Well, that, or bring a fully trained operator onto the crew. If the Captain could talk Ambassador Thoris into having the Imperial Guard second someone to us that would solve the problem."

"I will take that up with the Captain when I talk with him later. If there's no further business, this meeting is concluded. Very good work, everyone," said T'Pol.

As the others left, T'Pol said to Trip, "Commander Tucker, will you join me in the Captain's Ready Room?"

They walked across the bridge, T'Pol fighting for her control. She had discovered where the EPS conduits came from. She did not want this kind of confrontation with Trip, but she was in command. She had asked Captain Archer for advice and he had told her that she couldn't simply ignore this.

They entered the Ready Room and T'Pol sat in the Captain's chair behind the desk. She did not signal Trip to sit down. He did anyway.

"Commander Tucker, would you care to explain where you obtained the EPS conduits needed to complete the installation?"

Trip shifted a little in his seat and grinned. "Oh, those? Well, we scrounged around a bit and fixed up a few of those out-of-spec ones."

"Indeed. Perhaps you could explain these security camera recordings, Commander?"

T'Pol started a video on her screen, showing Trip beaming the pallet load of EPS conduits in and then, later, beaming out the other pallet.

"The transporter records show that the target in both instances was an area in Warehouse 2. Would you care to modify your statement?"

"All right, we swiped them. Sutter's got it in for us because he doesn't like me being able to tell him what to do. He already broke regulations hiding those off the books."

T'Pol rose to her feet, both hands on the desk. "Two wrongs do not cancel each other out, Commander. I believe that is a saying that Vulcans and Humans have in common. If you or Lieutenant Reed had been discovered, you could both be facing a court martial."

"Well, we didn't get caught and Sutter can't complain without getting himself in trouble. And, the shield generator is up and running on schedule."

"You are wrong, Commander. _I_ caught you. And you _lied_ to me. You are confined to quarters for the next twenty four hours. This is off the record unless you wish to contest it. I will inform the crew that you have been given a rest period after your hard work."

Trip rolled his eyes. "T'Pol, this is just the way the game's played. You're overreacting. This kind of stuff goes on all the time."

"It does? What else have you stolen?"

"Well, nothing, but the Captain would understand- "

"I _spoke_ to the Captain. He recommended your punishment."

"So, I'm in trouble for getting the job done."

"No, you are in trouble for violating regulations. You are in trouble for not informing me."

"What good would telling you have done?"

"There may have been other avenues we could explore, possibly a message to headquarters, pressure we could apply to Commander Sutter."

"See, that's why I didn't tell you. I knew you would follow the rules and we'd end up sitting on our asses for three weeks."

"Always the same with Humans. 'The ends justify the means,' is that it?"

"And Vulcans don't know when to let go of the damn rule book. I'll be in my quarters. Not that you'd ever want to find me."

He stormed out.

She sat back down behind the desk. She had cried in this room before. She would not do it again.


	20. Stranger in a Strange Land

Chapter 20 - Stranger in A Strange Land

_Author's note: __Thanks as always to Alelou for beta'ing this. She helped me add some extra angst. Hope you enjoy!_

August 2, 2156 1530 (Pacific Time) – _Enterprise_ in orbit around Earth (Sol III)

T'Pol sat in her quarters, reading the Kir'Shara. The captain had told her to take some shore leave but she didn't have any idea of where to go. A solo visit to Earth was not appealing, nor was a trip to Vulcan.

Trip had eventually apologized for lying to her and they had resumed eating many of their meals together but the refit work had kept them both busy and there had been few opportunities for any private conversation. She was not sure if he was upset at her for disciplining him; he had not made any overt remarks about it if he was. Regardless, he had not made an invitation to her yet.

Should she ask him to take her someplace? It was his planet. He should ask her. Maybe if she waited a bit longer he would. She continued to procrastinate for another twenty minutes.

She got up and looked in the mirror. "Procrastination is illogical," she said to her reflection. She would go talk to Trip. Soon. She returned to reading.

The door chimed. "Come in," she said. When she saw it was Hoshi instead of Trip, she worked hard not to show any disappointment.

"Good afternoon, Ensign. What can I do for you?"

"Commander, do you have any plans for your shore leave?"

She wanted to answer yes, but she didn't have plans and honesty forced her to say, "No, I do not."

"I'm going to visit my family in Japan and I wanted to invite you along. You've said that you haven't seen much of Earth besides San Francisco. Japan is pretty different from San Francisco. You won't have another chance to see more of the planet for quite a few years!"

T'Pol briefly considered. This plan was being presented to her and it meant she wouldn't have to wait any longer or ask Trip. Besides, he might not want to spend any time with her. The thought of being rejected was unpleasant. Better to go with Hoshi. Trip could always find her if he wanted to take her someplace.

"How long would we visit?"

"Just a couple of days. One day at my parents' and then there's a nice inn I've been wanting to try. It should be very relaxing."

"Yes, that sounds agreeable."

"Good, I'll comm my parents and let them know I'm bringing a guest. There's a shuttle leaving Spacedock for Osaka at 1700. Do you think you can be ready by then?"

"Yes."

Hoshi looked out the window at the Pacific as the 40-seat shuttlepod continued its descent at Mach 3. Southeast Asia and the archipelagos of the South Pacific were behind them now. They had caught a glimpse of Taiwan in the distance a few minutes earlier but now there was nothing but ocean visible beneath them as they continued northeast. "The Pacific Ocean is so big" she said. "Sometimes I think about people crossing it in sailing ships. I wonder if someday people will look back on what we're doing and marvel that we did it with such primitive technology."

"It is indeed a large ocean," replied T'Pol. "I would not like to cross it in a ship." The thought of so much water was discomforting to her. She checked her PADD for messages. Still nothing from Trip.

August 3, 2156 1115 (Japan Time) – Osaka Spaceport, Earth (Sol III)

The shuttle landed on a pad at the Osaka spaceport. It was late morning in Japan and the day was already hot and humid. Starfleet shared facilities with the civilian spaceport here. The Starfleet section was unsophisticated; they simply exited the shuttle onto the tarmac. The civilian section was quite different; huge passenger transports carrying upwards of a thousand passengers were being loaded through enclosed bridges connected to the terminal buildings. The transports dwarfed the Starfleet shuttlepods and were even larger than _Enterprise_. Further down the broad expanse of concrete, freight haulers, larger still, were loading and unloading containers.

The tarmac was busy with spaceport personnel in neat uniforms, most wearing helmets. They moved with precision, following marked paths. The overall air was of tight control, not the semi-organized chaos T'Pol associated with Human port facilities.

"Come on," said Hoshi as they entered the terminal. "From here, we'll take a train and then we'll take an autotaxi from the train station to my parents' house."

Once they left the Starfleet portion of the building, Osaka Spaceport was crowded. Advertisements were everywhere. Many were in Japanese characters, which T'Pol could not read but recognized from her cultural overview briefing when she had originally joined the Vulcan embassy on Earth. Hoshi was ahead of her. T'Pol turned her head to look at an advertisement and when she turned back Hoshi had disappeared in a sea of people of similar size with similar hair color. A moment later, she saw Hoshi looking back, waiting for her.

"I thought I had lost you," said T'Pol.

"Don't worry, I know how it is. My non-Japanese friends often lose me here. It's such a switch being somewhere where I just blend in."

"I have never seen this many Humans in one space."

"Yes, Japan can be very crowded. Don't worry; I know you don't like being around so many people. My parents' house is out in the countryside. It's very different."

They continued through the concourse. The spaceport began to turn into a shopping mall. There was no clear boundary where one ended and the other began. Men in front of the stores were shouting into microphones. Many different musical jingles were being played simultaneously. Apparently there was one for each store. T'Pol's keen hearing could pick up all of them. Food was being sold from small storefronts and cooking odors were everywhere. She identified the smells of grilled fish and meat and began to feel a bit queasy.

"Ensign, please wait a moment." She stopped, found the nasal inhibitor in her bag and used it. She closed her eyes and silently recited a calming mantra to herself. She opened her eyes.

Hoshi looked at her anxiously. "Are you OK, Commander?"

"I am fine. We may proceed."

They came to the entrance to the maglev station attached to the other end of the mall. A tap of their universal credit cards got them through the gate. Hoshi quickly consulted a schedule on a large screen.

"Our train will be at platform 4. It's over this way. I hardly recognize the station; they've remodeled again." They followed signs past even more shops to an escalator that went down deep into the earth. They stepped off the escalator as the next train drew up, a kilometer of gleaming white with a blue stripe. They joined a short line of people waiting at a gate in the chest -high wall along the edge of the platform. Similar lines were arrayed down the platform. The maglev came to a stop with the door of the car perfectly aligned with the gate. The gate and the door of the train slid open and arriving passengers disembarked quickly.

They boarded and found a couple of empty rows of seats. Hoshi kicked a button on the base of one of the rows and it spun around to face the other, giving them a small conversation area. Their travel bags went on the overhead shelf. Many people had boarded with them and were finding seats, but they were doing so quietly. The atmosphere inside the train was hushed. T'Pol sat in her seat with relief at the relative lack of sensory input. The doors closed and the train began to move. It had only been stopped for a couple of minutes. There was a feeling of acceleration but no vibration or sound. The train moved from the lighted platform chamber into the tunnel and then there was nothing to be seen through the windows except black.

A short announcement played in Japanese and then in English, "Welcome to the Yume Hyper Express, bound for Shin Tokyo. We will be making brief stops in Kyoto, Nagoya…"

"Are you OK, Commander?"

"I'm fine. How can Humans stand so much sensory input?"

"You just learn to tune it out after a while, I guess."

Hoshi seemed less animated than she usually did, more reserved. T'Pol mentioned this to her.

"You're right. It's just being back in Japan. Starfleet can be very American. I usually try to fit in and it's fun to be bouncy. My accent is good enough that I can pass as an American without any problems. I find that when I'm speaking a different language I'm often able to lose a lot of inhibitions, and feel less responsible for everything I say. Do you ever find that?"

T'Pol thought for a moment. "It is difficult to separate out the effect of speaking the language from that of simply being surrounded by Humans, but I think that may be so."

"I've really been wanting to show you Japan for a while, but there was never a good time. Before we head out, I thought it would be good for you to see more of Human culture, show you that there are different Human ways than just the American way."

"Is Japanese culture that different? The briefing I received at the embassy made little distinction between the areas. As English is in common usage everywhere on the planet, it was deemed illogical to study other languages."

"I've read the Vulcan analyses of human behavior and they're basically about Americans. Captain Archer and Commander Tucker are your stereotypical Americans. They shout, they laugh loudly, they hug, you can always tell what they're feeling."

"Are you saying that Japanese are different?"

"We're trained to control our feelings. Vulcans present an emotionless front. Japanese will just show you a small smile, no matter what's happening on the inside. We don't touch very much; instead, we bow. We prefer quiet things to noisy things"

"I find that hard to believe. The shopping area we passed through was louder than any shopping area I have ever experienced near San Francisco."

Hoshi laughed. "You're right, of course. Sometimes the environment on the ship really bothers me – all of those lights and Malcolm's tactical alerts blaring and the stress and the fear. When I think about home, I always think about our garden and the quiet, not the shopping malls."

"What were those men shouting about on the loudspeakers?"

"Oh, basically _come to my shop, we've got great stuff, come on in_."

"They did not seem emotionless or quiet."

Hoshi laughed again. "Well, give a Japanese a microphone and we go nuts. That's their job, though. When they go home, they probably don't say more than three words a night. You won't see most Japanese shouting at each other in a meeting, or yelling to each other in the street."

T'Pol considered, trying to resolve the contradictions.

The train left the tunnel and the sunlight flowed in the windows. Suburban houses flashed by.

"Humans are not logical. How can you function with so many contradictions?"

Hoshi looked at her squarely. "Vulcans are full of contradictions as well."

"Vulcans are logical. We do not have contradictions." Even as T'Pol said this, she knew it was not true. Saying it was reflexive. She had been taught it all her life.

"So why do people who value logic and utility so much have such ornate costumes for their officials?"

"They are traditional."

"Right. Why should tradition trump logic?"

T'Pol controlled her reflexes and answered honestly. "You are correct, of course. Vulcans have strayed considerably from the path of Surak."

"Humans are the same. We have ideals and we try to stick with them, but sometimes, maybe most of the time, we fall short."

The train stopped for precisely three minutes in Kyoto. T'Pol had found the schedule on her PADD and noted that the departure from Kyoto was within a few seconds of the scheduled time. Vulcans would have had difficulty doing better. She also checked her messages. Nothing from Trip.

Outside, the dense suburb had been left behind. Now they flashed through fields with occasional clusters of houses. Automated equipment tended the fields. Here and there a farmer could be seen maintaining a tractor or harvester. The maglev track was arrow-straight, diverting for nothing. Periodically they entered and exited short tunnels and passed over bridges as the track navigated Japan's rugged terrain. Several stations, skipped by the express, went by in a blur.

"Oh, here comes the lady with the cart. I don't know why, but I've always loved the coffee from the cart. Would you like anything?" asked Hoshi.

"No, thank you."

Hoshi waved to the woman with the cart and spoke to her in Japanese. "_Sumimasen. Kohi o hitotsu kudasai._"

The woman busied herself with pouring coffee. She took another look at Hoshi and then a look at T'Pol. Her eyes widened. "_Sato-sama desu ka?_" she asked. Hoshi nodded. The woman turned to T'Pol. "Are you Commander T'Pol?" she asked in English. "Yes," replied T'Pol. The woman put the coffee cup on the cart, stepped back and bowed deeply. "Thank you both for saving Earth. We were so scared that the Xindi would come again."

Hoshi replied in English, "We were just doing our duty."

The woman bowed again, before giving Hoshi her coffee. She took Hoshi's credit card, tapped it on her reader and then walked away pushing her cart.

Hoshi said "I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with all of the publicity. My parents told me I was all over the news here, being the only Japanese person on board _Enterprise_."

"I have been asked to sign autographs several times in San Francisco. Japanese people seem much more restrained," T'Pol said.

The announcement was made for Nagoya. "Come on, this is us," said Hoshi. They took their bags down and walked to the front of the car.

From the platform they rode an escalator down to ground level. A group of school children riding up to the platform caught sight of T'Pol and started waving enthusiastically. "_Gaijin!_ Hello! _Gaijin! Konnichi wa!_"

T'Pol stared back. Hoshi said, "Wave, Commander. They're just excited." Dutifully, T'Pol waved and the children laughed.

"They must not see many non-Humans here," stated T'Pol.

"Non-Japanese in general, really. I've seen all kinds of foreigners get the same treatment."

They exited the train station and got an autotaxi from the line in front of the station. The autotaxi quickly negotiated Nagoya's crowded downtown streets and brought them to the Sato family home on the outskirts.

The house was surrounded by a white wall. There was an antique looking wooden entryway, with tiled gables and a sliding wooden door. As the autotaxi approached, a section of the wall slid out of the way, revealing a white gravel driveway. The autotaxi entered and stopped in front of the house.

Hoshi's parents came out immediately to meet them. Hoshi exchanged a quick hug with her mother and bowed slightly to her father. "Mother, Father, I'd like to introduce Commander T'Pol, _Enterprise's _first officer."

Mr. Sato extended his hand. Hoshi laughed as T'Pol dutifully reached for it. "You both hate shaking hands," she said. "Why don't you bow?" T'Pol bowed and the Satos both bowed with small smiles.

"We're very happy you could come visit us," Mr. Sato said. "Hoshi has mentioned you many times. Have you visited Japan before?"

"This is my first trip. I find it fascinating. Your house reminds me of my parents' home on Vulcan."

"Really?"

"Yes, we also have a wall and a courtyard. The architecture is somewhat similar. It's much drier, however, on Vulcan."

They entered the house. Much of the house was Western style but there was a room with traditional tatami mats and rice paper shoji doors that opened onto the garden behind the house. Hoshi's mother brought in some green tea and snacks. They sat on cushions around a low table.

"It's very exciting to have someone who saved our world visit us," said Hoshi's mother.

"We all played a part. Your daughter was a key member of the crew as well."

"Hoshi? She's just the communications officer, isn't she?" asked Mr. Sato.

T'Pol took a sip of her tea. "Ensign Sato decrypted the plans for the Xindi weapon and went with Captain Archer to destroy it. She was fortunate to get off before it exploded. Without her involvement, the weapon would probably have destroyed Earth."

Hoshi's parents looked at each other and then at Hoshi. "She never tells us anything," said her mother.

Hoshi and her parents chatted about family and friends while T'Pol sipped her tea and looked at the garden. It was not as colorful or busy as the gardens she had seen in San Francisco. She found the combination of raked gravel and small trees very soothing.

Later, Hoshi and T'Pol took the family hovercar downtown for lunch and shopping. The upscale department stores were much quieter than the spaceport mall and there was a bewildering assortment of women's fashions available. T'Pol expressed interest in purchasing a hat and Hoshi immediately steered her to the correct area.

"Here, try this one on, T'Pol."

"This is acceptable. It is aesthetically pleasing and covers my ears," T'Pol said, looking in a mirror.

"You can't buy the first hat you try on! Turn towards me. No, we can do better."

Forty-five minutes later, a hat acceptable to them both was procured.

In the hovercar, T'Pol pulled out her PADD once again to check her messages.

"Expecting a message, Commander?" asked Hoshi.

"No."

"So what's Commander Tucker doing with his shore leave?"

"I don't know."

"I would have expected him to spend some time with you."

"He has not discussed it with me."

Hoshi gave her a long appraising look. "Well, OK. If you ever feel like talking about it, let me know."

Did she want to talk about Trip? Humans never ceased talking about relationships. "Perhaps at another time," she said. She sighed. Control. She needed to be in control. How could he make her anxious simply through inaction? This was not logical.

That evening around dinnertime, the doorbell chimed. Hoshi ran to open it. A Caucasian man and Japanese woman, both in their late fifties, were there. "Uncle Mike, Aunt Keiko! I'm so glad you could come!"

"Always happy to see my favorite niece," said Mike, wrapping Hoshi in a hug.

"I'm your _only_ niece!"

"You finally noticed?"

"Uncle Mike, this is Commander T'Pol, our first officer. Commander, Uncle Mike is the reason I got kicked out of training!"

"I'm familiar with your records. I thought the reason was gambling."

"Uncle Mike taught me how to play poker."

"_I_ taught you how to play poker for rice crackers, not how to have a floating high stakes game!" protested Mike.

"I always said you were a bad influence, Mike-san. Let's have dinner," said Mr. Sato.

"T'Pol-san, _jozu desu ne_! You're doing very well with chopsticks," Hoshi's mother said enthusiastically as T'Pol successfully ate a piece of tempura pumpkin.

"Captain Archer and Commander Tucker have been training me for some time. I think the training was the source of much amusement for them," T'Pol said.

"Dinner and a show, Commander Tucker used to say," said Hoshi.

"I think we saw him on the news last year. Is he the blond one?" asked Keiko.

"Yes," said T'Pol.

"He's very handsome, don't you think, Hoshi-chan?" said Keiko.

"Oh, I suppose so. Especially if you like Americans, like you do, Auntie," said Hoshi. Her aunt blushed slightly while Mike grinned. T'Pol busied herself with another piece of tempura.

"T'Pol-san, I don't know much about Vulcan customs. Do you have a boyfriend or a husband?" Mrs. Sato asked.

"Mom! Vulcans don't talk about those things!" said Hoshi.

"The question is not offensive. Vulcans usually have arranged marriages, but mine didn't work out," replied T'Pol. She could talk about Koss now. This meant her control was improving.

"I'm sorry to hear that. But, you're still young. Spending all that time in space must make it hard, though. You're the only Vulcan on the ship, aren't you?" said Mrs. Sato.

"I am."

"It must be lonely not having anyone to talk to," said Mike.

"Vulcans do not experience loneliness. Also, Ensign Sato sometimes practices her Vulcan with me. And, Commander Tucker is reading the Kir'Shara and we discuss it."

"How about the food? That was one of the hardest things about moving to Japan for me," said Mike.

"Our chef makes a number of Vulcan dishes. He is rather adept," said T'Pol.

"What do you think of Japanese food?" asked Hoshi.

"It is agreeable. It's somewhat similar to Vulcan food. Both use subtle flavors."

"How about alien food? What's the strangest thing you've eaten?" asked Mr. Sato.

"We were nearly eaten by the Klingons' food supply once," said T'Pol.

"Yes, the Klingon food was the worst! And we didn't even eat any of it!" Hoshi chimed in.

"Which ones are the Klingons?" asked Keiko.

"They're the big scary ones. They like their food very fresh. We were trying to help one of their ships and found the 'live meat locker' in their galley," said Hoshi.

"Japanese food has never tried to eat me. Though, there was that lobster that was trying to get off the plate," said Mike.

"Oh, _ikizukuri_ is gross!" cried Hoshi.

"What is it?" asked T'Pol.

"They filet a fish or a lobster while it's still alive and bring it to the table. So, while you're eating it, it's moving around in front of you." Hoshi made a wiggling gesture with her fingers.

"I see," said T'Pol. She turned a little pale as she looked at the plate of sashimi the others were sharing. "I believe that the vegetable tempura was a very suitable choice for me, Mrs. Sato."

"On the Klingon ship, the smell was the worst part," Hoshi said.

"Agreed," said T'Pol. "Mr. Lawson, how did you come to live in Japan?"

"I majored in Japanese in college. It's a tricky language so I came here to really master it. I met Keiko and decided to stay. Fairly typical, really."

"Japan seems to be very different from North America. Am I correct?"

"I would say so. I think the world was becoming more homogenous before the third world war, then that hit and each area turned inwards for a while. Now, we're back to globalizing again. When I came to Japan thirty years ago it was a bit of an adventure."

"Ensign Sato has been explaining some of the differences in culture to me. Did you find it difficult to adjust?"

"It was tricky at times. So many different ways to do things. But, you adapt."

"Humans can certainly be flexible. I'm not sure if I will ever fully adapt to Human culture."

"Well, I've lived in Japan for thirty years and I'm still a 'gaijin' and I always will be. Sometimes it's hard, but sometimes it can be a lot of fun to be an outsider!"

"Tell T'Pol how you really mastered Japanese," said Hoshi.

"Oh, well, I worked for a moving company here while taking classes. Movers, well, when you get something wrong, they tend to let you know about it physically. Get bopped in the head a few times and it really helps you remember words!"

"Indeed. Perhaps I should try that technique with Commander Tucker sometime."

The sound of their laughter was agreeable.

Later that night, T'Pol sat in the tatami room with the screens opened to the garden. She had been given the option of the Western style guest room but had opted for the tranquility of the garden view and the soft, grassy smell of the tatami. A candle borrowed from Mrs. Sato was lit for her meditation. The twenty-eight degree Celsius, humid air from outside was agreeably cool for her. In the countryside there were few man-made sounds. The buzzing of the cicadas was loud but pleasantly natural.

Life among Humans could be many things, but never dull. Over dinner they had discussed many of the different Earth cultures. How could one planet hold so much diversity? She was beginning to think that a Vulcan on Earth was not nearly the novelty that a Human on Vulcan was.

With their diversity of cultures, Humans had to be flexible, more flexible than she had realized. She needed to be as well – Vulcan was no longer her home. She would return to visit but her well-known association with Humans and the damage from the trellium meant she probably would no longer fit into Vulcan society. Better to be an outsider than an outcast; though it would be agreeable to have a partner.

Before beginning her meditation she checked her PADD again for messages. Still nothing. She contemplated sending Trip a message but decided against it. She wondered if he had even noticed that she had left. But surely it was illogical to be so concerned with another's _feelings_.

Her meditation took longer than usual and she was still uneasy when she finished. She blew out the candle and eventually slept on the futon on the floor.

_Author's note: Mike is not me; he's based on a friend of mine. His Japanese is much better than mine, perhaps because I have not been hit in the head as encouragement. The shopping mall is a pastiche – if you visit the shopping area at Narita Airport or Haneda Airport you won't find it. It's more of an amalgam of Shibuya and Akihabara (the electronics district in Tokyo). All of the things in it are things I've run into in Japan. Little kids waving and calling "Hello Gaijin" has happened to me multiple times in different parts of Japan._


	21. Home Is Where the Heart Is

Chapter 21 – Home Is Where The Heart Is

_Thanks to Alelou for beta'ing – angst and bad behavior is my responsibility in this chapter._

August 2, 2156 1900 (Pacific Time) – _Enterprise_ in orbit around Earth (Sol III)

Engineering was quiet with much of the crew on shore leave. Trip had spent the day happily running diagnostics and dealing with routine maintenance. He'd figured he would leave T'Pol on the hook for a while before asking her to go somewhere with him. Sometimes ignoring her really paid benefits. He thought back to that kiss in the corridor with pleasure. With the workday done, now seemed like a good time to call her.

He tried reaching her on the intercom several time with no luck. Finally he called the bridge and asked O'Neill if she knew where T'Pol was.

"Oh, she and Hoshi checked out a couple of hours ago. I think they were headed for Japan."

"Really. Thanks, D.O." He thumbed off the intercom.

He looked around to make sure he was alone in Engineering before kicking the wall panel as hard as he could.

"God damn it, she did it to me again!" he hollered.

After dinner he sat in his quarters. He kept setting himself up for her. It was obvious that she was never going to show any kind of commitment to him. Maybe it was time he got the damn clue already.

He needed something to do. His thesis was done and submitted so he couldn't work on that. Well, as long as _she_ wasn't around to give him the disapproving eyebrow, he could get some drinking in.

He was starting on his second drink when the viewscreen beeped. When he answered it, the face was instantly recognizable.

"Hi Amanda, what's up?" _Amanda Cole – now there's trouble, _he thought. If he spent any time alone with her, T'Pol would hit the roof. _Though, the last time didn't work out that badly…No, too much trouble._

"I'm down at my parents' house in Florida and an old friend of mine is visiting San Francisco. If she had told me I would have stayed a couple of days to show her around but this was very last minute. I was wondering if you would mind giving her a tour?"

He mulled it over for a second. "I think I can do that. Give me her contact info and I'll get in touch."

August 3, 2156 1030 (Pacific Time) – San Francisco, Earth (Sol III)

Trip checked his hair in the mirror again as the autotaxi headed for the hotel at the Embarcadero, close to the San Francisco Bay. Amanda's friend, Julie, had looked pretty good on the viewscreen the night before. Maybe spending some time with a pretty girl from back home was what he needed to get cheered up and stop moping about a certain Vulcan. It would be nice to spend time with someone who could have some fun instead of overanalyzing everything.

The autotaxi pulled up at the hotel and he walked inside and up the escalators. The old hotel's towering atrium was still impressive after almost two centuries. It was a long walk across the atrium floor past the large abstract sculpture and fountain to the old fashioned elevators that bobbed up and down like lit jewels on a column that rose to the top, fourteen stories above. A quick look around showed no sign of Julie. He pulled out his pocket comm and called her room.

"Oh, Trip, sorry, I'm still putting my makeup on. Give me five minutes, bye!" She had that kind of soft Southern accent that Trip associated with home. He found a chair and pulled up some engineering documents on his pocket comm, cursing the tiny display as always.

Twenty-five minutes later, Julie came into the lobby. Well, he thought to himself, the wait was worth it. Blonde and blue-eyed, she turned the heads of most of the men in the lobby as her heels clicked across the floor.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm so bad with being on time. Thank you for waiting!"

"It's no problem. Where would you like to go? There's a lot of things to see in San Francisco."

"How about the Museum of Modern Art?"

Two hours later, Trip was at the end of his rope with modern art.

"I still don't understand why a chair in the middle of the room is artistic and the chair the guard is sitting on isn't," he said.

"Well, one makes a statement and one is just propping up the guard."

He bit back "That's illogical" and contented himself with rolling his tongue in his cheek. "How about some lunch?" he asked.

Julie tucked into her steak sandwich while Trip ate his salad. _There's definitely something wrong with me_, he thought to himself.

"So Trip, are you seeing anyone?"

"Not really. We're getting ready to head out on a five year mission, so it's not a real good time to start a relationship." _Well, it wouldn't be a bad time to start a relationship with someone who was on the same mission,_ he thought to himself.

"How about that Vulcan woman, Topol? Amanda said you had something going on with her."

"T'Pol," he corrected. "We're colleagues, nothing more," he lied as he pushed his salad around with his fork.

"Amanda was sure there's something going on."

"No, really, there's nothing."

"Well, I think that you're going to waste and that's a pity."

"So, you haven't told me what you do for work, Julie," he said, trying to steer the conversation onto a different track.

"I'm in sales. I sell paint, mainly for hovercars."

"Really? Getting a good paint job on composites is a challenge. You must know all about the chemistry and painting equipment, then."

"Me? No, I have a sales engineer who does that stuff. I'm all about getting the deals made. I'm the top rep in Northern Florida."

"Oh." Trip went back to pushing his salad around.

"Have you been back home lately, Trip?"

"To Panama City? I went last year when the memorial was dedicated. My parents moved away and it's just too painful to spend much time there with that big ditch running through the city."

"I was twenty miles away when it hit. All the windows in the building blew out and we were lucky the building didn't shake down on us. I still can't believe we didn't wipe those Xindi out."

"When we left, that's sure what I wanted to do. Not that we would have been able to. It was just us, one little starship against all of them."

"But we made a peace treaty with them! They're even coming here to Earth for that Coalition of Planets thing!"

"I think that's a good thing."

"I know we're supposed to turn the other cheek, but don't you think this is too much?"

"Killing people is a lot harder after you've looked them in the eyes. I think I could still pull the trigger on the Xindi Reptilians, but the rest…"

"I'm sorry Trip, we're supposed to be having a nice lunch."

"It's OK. You know, I actually met the guy who designed the weapon. It was all I could do not to strangle him when I laid eyes on him."

"I don't know if anything could have stopped me. My father's office was right under the beam."

"I know…but he wound up helping us. I gave him an earful, that's for sure. I don't know if it helped or hurt, but he wound up showing us how to stop the weapon."

Julie stared at him. "That's a lot to wrap my head around. So he's both a mass murderer and the savior of our planet?"

"Was. He got killed during the whole mess. Left a wife and two little kids behind." Trip signaled the waiter passing by. "Can I get a beer?" he said.

"I'll take an appletini, please," said Julie. "Sorry to drive you to drink."

"Nothing's black and white. The Xindi were being duped by another race who convinced them that big bad Humans were going to come and kill them if they didn't kill us first."

"You never hear these things on the news."

"Hard to smush it all down into a sound bite."

Their drinks arrived and they turned the conversation back to lighter topics. Trip finished his beer and asked, "So, what would you like to do next on your San Francisco tour?"

"How about Fisherman's Wharf? It sounds cute!"

Trip pasted a smile on his face and said, "OK!"

First stop was the amusement complex at the east end of the Wharf area. Shops and rides and other attractions were built on top of several of the piers that jutted out over the water.

"Oh look, it's one of those Christmas all year shops," said Julie. "Can we take a look?"

As they browsed among fake trees covered in fake snow Trip imagined what T'Pol would say: _I thought Christmas was a winter holiday. Why would you want to buy Christmas decorations in August_?

They wandered towards the rides. There was a row of standard amusement park concessions, selling fried, sweetened or even sweetened and fried foods.

Imaginary T'Pol had to put her two cents in again: _I fail to see the logic of cotton candy. Wouldn't it be easier and less messy to simply spoon the sugar into your mouth?_

Julie got Trip to go on a roller coaster (_I don't understand Humans' desire for simulated danger_) and then take a crack at some of the traditional midway games (_I have been observing the frequency of winning. It would be cheaper to simply purchase the prizes)_. Julie was thoroughly enjoying the experience. Trip thought back to when she would have been a perfect date for him. Since when did everything need to be analyzed logically? Or did he just enjoy the arguing?

They left the amusement park behind and started walking west through the other tourist traps. They got far enough to smell the crabs boiling in the big pots along the sidewalk.

"Trip, I'm sorry, but my feet are killing me."

"Oh, yeah, those heels will do it. How about we take a taxi up to the chocolate factory and finish the tour?"

Julie had a small chocolate sundae and Trip had a chocolate milk shake. As he took a sip he suddenly chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Julie asked.

"Well, chocolate kind of works like alcohol on Vulcans, so for them this would be like downing a mug of Jack Daniels."

"Oh, Valentine's Day must be a hoot on Vulcan."

"Vulcans aren't real big on romance." He sipped on his shake and scowled.

Julie looked at him and shook her head. "Trip Tucker, you have got it bad."

He didn't have any reply to that so he just continued drinking his shake.

When Trip dropped Julie off at the hotel she gave him a kiss on the cheek. As he walked out the doors he sighed. T'Pol had pulled her disappearing act on him and there was nothing going on between them anyhow – so why did he feel so guilty?


	22. Now I Am Become Death

Chapter 22 - Now I Am Become Death, the Destroyer of Worlds

August 3, 2156 1400 (Central European Time) – United Earth Prime Minister's Secure Conference Room, Brussels (Sol III)

The Secure Conference Room was deep beneath the Résidence Palace on Rue de la Loi. The complex of buildings that had once held the European Council now housed the United Earth Prime Minister's offices. The Art Deco facades had been retained through several rebuilds and fronted a thoroughly modern building. The meeting today in the Secure Conference Room appeared no different from the many other highly secret meetings that occurred regularly.

Commander Harcourt of the Starfleet Cambridge Weapons Laboratory waited patiently as the small group of Ministers and Admirals took their seats. This was his first visit to the Résidence Palace and he was enjoying the ambiance of the room, wood paneled with comfortable chairs and a hushed atmosphere. _Not a good meeting room for theoreticians, though_, he thought. Not enough writable area on the walls.

When everyone was seated he said, "Before I begin this briefing, the conference room must be at security level 1. Will everyone please identify themselves to the security system?"

Around the room, everyone was authenticating themselves to the security monitors in front of them. The head of Starfleet R&D, Admiral Chandrasekha, muttered to Admiral Gardner, "I hate these stupid things," as a laser scanned across her iris. "Buck up, Earsh," he whispered back. "You never know, there might be a Tholian among us."

A green border appeared around the edge of the Harcourt's display on the lectern and his presentation unlocked when everyone had completed their authentication. He began, "Very good. Prime Minister, ladies and gentlemen, I am here today to brief you on a research project that has been designated _Case Catastrophe Green_. This project was instigated in response to the Xindi attack of 12 March, 2153. It is a theoretical superweapon, capable of destroying all life on a planet, which we believe can be built with modest extensions to existing technologies.

I believe everyone is familiar with the gross capabilities of the Guardian slash Xindi weapon? Let me reacquaint you with it. This information, I must remind you, is classified top secret."

He started a video on the large viewscreen.

"This footage was taken by _Enterprise,_ at the Xindi test range. We see here the second prototype of the Xindi weapon, larger than the one that attacked Earth in 2153 but smaller than the full scale weapon."

On the screen, the Xindi prototype weapon fired, breaking the crust off a small moon.

"Jesus Christ!" exclaimed Dr. Moltisanti, the Prime Minister's science advisor.

"Exactly, Doctor. This, we believe, was a _failed_ test. The full-scale Xindi weapon was capable of reducing a planet to rubble in a matter of minutes. Fortunately, we did not have the opportunity to see it in action first hand."

He clicked and a graph appeared, comparing the Guardian power source to other available power sources; fusion reactor, thermonuclear bomb, anti-matter reactor, and others. Almost all were tiny bars on the graph compared to the Guardian power source.

Harcourt continued, "However, the power requirements of that weapon were roughly equivalent to that generated by a medium-sized star, such as our own Sun. We do not have the technology to duplicate it, and, fortunately, we do not believe anyone else, including the Xindi, can make another weapon at this time."

He clicked and a new image appeared, showing a rocky asteroid with a number of installations on it. Starships also clung to the surface. A scale along the bottom showed the asteroid to be about five kilometers in length.

"The Xindi weapon was overkill. It's not necessary to reduce a planet to rubble to destroy a race's capacity for war. Through the use of clustered warp field generators we believe we could accelerate an asteroid to Warp 4 and collide it with a planet."

The video began to play. The asteroid was shown moving through space, the streaks of stars behind it indicating it was moving faster than light.

"This simulation shows the impact of such an asteroid with a typical 'M' class planet."

A blue green planet with white clouds, similar but different from Earth, appeared. The asteroid, shown as a streak, hit in the middle of a large ocean. A huge _tsunami_ left the impact site as a ring. In the center of the ring, orange-red magma could be seen.

"We're going to speed things up a bit here. It would take an hour or so for the actual events to unfold."

The tsunami began moving faster, racing for the coasts. The impact point was now covered by a huge cloud of steam.

"Simulations show that this wave will be about 3 kilometers high when it reaches the coasts. While the wave is advancing, massive seismic shocks will be propagating as well."

The planet spun on the screen, showing the opposite side. A huge chunk of a continent heaved and then ejected into space.

"That is directly opposite the impact point. That chunk is roughly the size of Utah and New Mexico combined and extends down into the mantle. Rubble and lava from that will rain down on all parts of the planet."

On the screen, the planet spun back and the wave hit the coasts and kept going.

"The tsunami should inundate everything within several hundred kilometers of the coast of any body of water connected to the impact point. We also estimate that all points on the planet will be subjected to at least a magnitude 12 earthquake. Between the seismic effects and the impact of the debris around the planet it should remove the war-making capability of any race."

"That's sick," said Gardner, present in his role as Chief of Starfleet Operations.

"Yes, it is sick, isn't it, Admiral?" said the Prime Minister as he wrote a note on his PADD. He continued, "And so are all weapons of mass destruction. We've been the target once so far. I want to have the ability to strike back in the future."

"We don't need this kind of obscenity. We can send the fleet and bombard from orbit."

Defense Minister DeForrest said, "I'm not convinced Starfleet has the ability to do that, Admiral. We were fortunate that the Xindi were reasonable. Even with the buildup, do we have the ability to send a pacification fleet to them if they were to build another weapon? How about the Klingons?"

Gardner replied, "This is not the answer! Besides civilian casualties, you're talking about wiping out an entire ecosystem as well. This, this, is beyond war crimes, Prime Minister!"

"_Case Catastrophe Green_ offers advantages over a conventional fleet bombardment," said Harcourt mildly. "An asteroid of that size, moving at warp _is_ a fleet. It can mount defenses that no ship can. It is quite unstoppable against any projected force, including the Vulcans or the Klingons."

Moltisanti had been listening intently. "I'm not completely versed on warp field theory, Commander, so this may be a stupid question. This looks straightforward, mainly a scaling up of existing technology. Why hasn't anyone else fielded a weapon like this?"

"Excellent question, Doctor. We've been asking ourselves that as well. I think there are two reasons. First, very few other races have delved into warp field theory as deeply as we have. The Vulcans, obviously, are very well versed theoretically. Other races in this sector, though, are working from the crumbs that the Vulcans drop for them. Zefram Cochrane independently invented warp field theory and we have put considerable effort into expanding his work.

Our investigations into warp theory led us to the concept of clustered warp engines. We believe this is new, even for the Vulcans. We work closely with the Cambridge Center for Warp Theory. They have been working on the math of clustering for a while. _Enterprise_ and _Columbia _verified much of their theory when their warp fields were merged in late 2154. To my knowledge, a merge at high warp had not been done anywhere before. It's not possible to scale a single warp engine up large enough to propel a mass of the required size.

Second, I don't believe there are many other races that can match Humans for sheer bloody-mindedness. The concept of planetary annihilation is, forgive me, 'alien' to most races' way of thinking. The Guardians introduced it to the Xindi. I don't think even the Reptilians would have conceived of this strategy otherwise."

"And you propose to teach this to other species? Good God, the Klingons are scary enough already," said Gardner.

The Prime Minister said, "I've seen the Vulcan intelligence on the Klingon fleet, Admiral. Even with all of the building that is going on, it will be decades before we can match the Klingons. We need an equalizer. This may be it." He pointed excitedly at the screen. "Imagine if the Klingons attempt to invade us and we could send a _Catastrophe Green _back! How long until this is deployable?"

"With full funding, we estimate two years," said Admiral Chandrasekha.

"Well, we'd better get started then. Jim, make sure this gets moving," Samuels told DeForrest.

The meeting adjourned. As they walked out, Gardner held Chandrasekha back. "Earsh, how can you support this thing?" he asked her.

"Sam, it's never going to get used. The research into clustered warp fields is really exciting, though. Think of what we could do if we could move a gigaton or more at warp speeds! Colonization could actually start to make a dent in the population here."

"We'd all better hope this never gets used. We could wind up on the receiving end of one of these."

"Well, then you'd better start putting together a plan to defend against this. Think of the funding!"

Gardner rolled his eyes and walked out.

_4 months earlier…._

April 8, 2156 1600 - 95th Floor, Hall of State, Ra'tleihfi, Romulus

Admiral Makkar stood confidently before the Foreign Threat Council. His team had been working hard and he felt the results were excellent.

Working from their knowledge of the Vulcan defense grid, they had designed a drone and weapons system that could be slipped past it for a first strike. They assumed that Earth's defense grid was based on derated Vulcan technology and anything that could penetrate Vulcan's grid would surely penetrate Earth's.

The only practical way to detect ships beyond a few light seconds was by subspace. Warp drives, by their very nature, generated a subspace signature, as did nuclear power, fission or fusion. Anti-matter, merely by existing, generated subspace disturbances. Faced with these constraints most ship designers just threw their hands up at the idea of building a stealthy starship.

However, once you removed the constraint of keeping life support running for weeks while you slowly snuck into a system at sublight speed, it was possible – the drone could just power down and had no need for antimatter or running nuclear power in that state. Antimatter weapons were compact, but old-fashioned hydrogen bombs could be made almost as powerful. Including a speck of antimatter to trigger one wouldn't be detectable (they'd looked at fission triggers – starting plutonium production was incredibly expensive and messy to boot). Of course, once the drone's fusion reactors powered up as it began its attack it would be detectable but by then it would be too late.

"Admiral, give us your status," prompted Pro-consul Tamman.

"The unusual sourcing of the parts delayed the schedule but the drones are now completed and all of the crews are trained. We are ready to deploy on your command, Praetor."

"Very good, Admiral," said the Praetor.

"Praetor, I am still concerned about our intelligence on Earth," said Senator Selak, the Chair of the War Committee. "I have studied the reports carefully and much of the information is dated."

"Our primary intelligence on that sector has always come through Vulcan. Our intelligence network there has been completely disrupted. General Vralax, what was your estimate to re-establishing it again?" asked Senator Miral.

"At least another six months. Infiltrating agents into Vulcan is much more difficult now that we have lost our agents in the government. They are very alert now. Our remaining agents only have access to public sources, which are unlikely to be more accurate than classified information, even old classified information."

Tamman spoke up, "Praetor, the thermonuclear weapons that we are using to avoid detection are bulky, but they are fully as powerful as more modern weapons. We do not need pinpoint accuracy to destroy cities with them."

The Praetor rose from his seat. "We've agreed that the Humans are the glue binding the Tellarites, Andorians and Vulcans together and removing them will lead to fractures in the Daenn, this "Coalition" of theirs. The Klingons continue to press on our borders and we need the resources the Daenn control to match them. We cannot afford to wait. As it is, it will be several months before the blow is struck, isn't that correct Admiral?"

"Yes, Praetor. Four months to get the carrier into position and then the drones will spend another two weeks at sub-light to evade detection."

"We go," decided the Praetor.


	23. Jump In, the Water's Fine!

Chapter 23 - Jump In, The Water's Fine!

August 4, 2156 0530 (Japan Time) – Nagoya, Earth (Sol III)

T'Pol awoke early and checked her messages again. Still nothing from Trip. The rest of the household was still asleep but the sun was up so she went for a walk.

After breakfast, Hoshi asked T'Pol to come with her to the family gravesite, located at a nearby temple. They walked to the temple, stopping along the way to purchase some flowers.

"This has been the family gravesite for four hundred years," Hoshi told her.

The gravesite itself was a small monument made out of polished stone in the graveyard behind the temple. There were many similar monuments nearby, some very eroded, while others - like the Sato monument - looked relatively new.

"The stone must be very durable," T'Pol said, as she ran her finger over the glossy surface.

"Not this exact one! My grandmother had it rebuilt when my grandfather died, about fifteen years ago. This has been the location, though, for four hundred years, and all of the ashes were moved into the new grave."

_Four__ hundred__ years_, thought T'Pol. _About__ sixteen__ human__ generations._ Sixteen generations was a respectable amount of history, even for Vulcans, though Vulcan generations were closer to fifty Earth years each.

Hoshi busied herself replacing the old flowers in the containers built into the monument and cleaning the stone with some water she had brought in a small bucket. When she was finished, she lit some incense and bent her head in prayer for a minute.

"You may think it's silly, but it's kind of comforting to think that your ancestors are watching out for you."

"I only read a brief summary, but I thought that Buddhism teaches that souls are reincarnated. How can they be watching over you?"

Hoshi laughed. "You know, I asked our priest that one time. He said that was a good question and he didn't have an answer."

T'Pol quirked an eyebrow at Hoshi. "A priest who doesn't know all the answers. Fascinating."

"How about Vulcans? I've been hearing things about katras but I haven't gotten a clear idea of what a katra is. Is it a soul?"

"I don't know. The priests taught that they don't exist. Now, three people I trust have sworn they do. If they do exist, I may have made a terrible error."

"What do you mean?"

"Both my mother and my daughter died in front of me. Should I have saved their katras? I was never taught how to do that! Or does saving the katra just imprison it, keep it from going to its proper destination?" She hadn't shared that distressing thought with anyone, even Trip. No one else had worked through the logic of the situation yet it seemed.

"That's a horrible thought, T'Pol!" She continued in Vulcan, "_I__ grieve __with__ thee.__"_

Hoshi lit two more sticks of incense and they stood there in silence for a minute.

"Buddhism teaches that the soul moves on and that's a necessary part of its growth. So, by our teachings, I think it was the right thing to do. Do you think Humans have katras?"

"Captain Archer held Surak's katra and he says he was able to converse with Surak. I have mind melded with you and your mind was not significantly different from what I know of Vulcan minds. So I would assume Humans have katras if Vulcans do."

"I'm surprised that Vulcans don't have the whole thing reduced to a science."

"It may not be amenable to experiments and calculations. There was a reason we turned away from the mystical side of our culture."

"I wonder if we'll get any answers any time soon."

"I think if the answers were easy we would have found them a long time ago," said T'Pol.

They walked back to the Sato residence and packed their bags. After a light lunch with Hoshi's parents they said goodbye and took a hovertaxi into the mountains of the Mie peninsula to the Japanese inn, or _ryokan_, that Hoshi had booked them into. T'Pol resisted all urges to check her messages.

That evening, they sat on cushions on tatami mats. An array of small covered dishes had been arranged on the table before them.

"This _ryokan_ is famous for their vegetarian cuisine so everything should be OK for you to eat. Not even any fish in the _dashi_ broth!" said Hoshi.

It was an exquisite meal, a treat for both vision and taste. T'Pol found it quite acceptable and was disappointed when she emptied her last small dish.

Hoshi excused herself and went to the bathroom. T'Pol resisted for a moment, then pulled her PADD out and checked through her message queue. Only routine ship's business, nothing from Trip.

"Still haven't gotten that message you're not expecting?" Hoshi asked as she sat back down.

"No," T'Pol said flatly, looking at Hoshi, mentally daring her to continue.

"Hmm…. Well, now that we've eaten, let's go to the _onsen_!" Hoshi grinned. .

"_Onsen?__"_ asked T'Pol.

"Hot bath. It may even be hot enough for you to enjoy it."

"Together?"

"It's big, don't worry." Hoshi grinned wickedly. "I'm easing you into _onsen_ culture. They have private baths here. A lot of places have big communal ones." She tossed T'Pol a _yukata_ robe in a plastic wrapper. T'Pol looked at it. "Come on, Commander, it's _logical_ to experience alien cultures. Besides, it's not like we haven't already seen everything in decon already."

Hoshi and T'Pol walked down the gravel path wrapped in their _yukatas_ with their _geta_ wooden sandals on their feet.

"This is it," said Hoshi as she opened a door in a bamboo fence. Inside was a small, steaming pool at the top of a drop off, with a view out over the ocean. Alongside was a small building with showers on the outside. There were small stools in front of the showers.

"First, you wash off and then you get in the bath," Hoshi said as she doffed her robe.

"Logical for shared bathing," said T'Pol. She removed her robe and sat down at the shower next to Hoshi. They washed and carefully rinsed off all the soap and shampoo before heading to the bath.

"Oh, that's nice," Hoshi said as she sank down to her chin. "Come on, Commander, this is probably just lukewarm for a Vulcan."

T'Pol spotted a thermometer at one end of the pool. It read forty-six degrees Celsius. She eagerly stepped into the _onsen._

"This is great," said Hoshi, slumped back with her eyes closed. "I can't get the shower hot enough on Enterprise."

"Yes, I've always found them a bit cool myself," T'Pol said as she relaxed against the wall of the bath.

"I bet if you asked _Commander __Tucker_ you could get a hotter shower. Or maybe even a bath tub!"

"Why do you say that?"

Hoshi said, with her eyes closed, "Are you ready to _talk_ about what's going on with you and Trip?"

"Why do Humans so often wish to discuss such matters?"

"Sometimes we don't. Japan is called a 'high-context' culture. A lot of times we don't say things out loud because everyone is supposed to know. Vulcan seems to be similar. However, when people from different cultures interact we need to work in a 'low-context' mode because we don't all know what the others know. And cross-cultural communication is my specialty. And in my _professional_ opinion, I think it would be good for you to talk."

T'Pol considered. "It is a confidential matter."

"I'm good at confidential."

This was true – every communication went past Hoshi. "I don't know where to begin."

Hoshi sat up. "Well, let's start at what I think is the heart of the matter. Are you and Trip romantically involved?"

T'Pol squirmed in the bath. _Stop,_ she told herself. _You__ are__ not__ a__ child.__ You__ can__ discuss__ this __rationally._

"I'm not sure what 'romantically involved' means. Vulcan relationships are simpler – we are either unattached, betrothed or married. Trip and I are not betrothed or married, but neither are we unattached."

"Well, Humans aren't that much more complicated. We have 'dating,' which you would fit in between unattached and betrothed. And a lot of people never get formally married but they're functionally married."

"Does dating include sexual relations?"

"Ummm…yes, for many people. Some reserve sexual relations until after marriage."

"By ancient Vulcan standards Trip and I may already be married. I think it would be agreeable to be married to him, to be _bonded_ permanently, but I would prefer that it be our choice, not something that simply happened. And I am not certain how Trip feels about it."

"T'Pol, everyone on the ship is pretty convinced that Trip is totally, completely in love with you."

"Really?"

"He spends all of his free time with you; he talks about you all the time. Those are pretty clear indications."

"Are they? I assumed that we would spend time together during our shore leave, but he never made any plans with me. I've been gone two days and he hasn't contacted me."

"And you didn't contact him, either, right?"

"Your point?"

"I think Trip is playing hard-to-get for some reason. And so are you."

"We are playing a game?" T'Pol said, slightly confused. Then she thought back to the time Trip had backed her into asking - no, begging - him to stay on board Enterprise. "Perhaps we are." And she didn't like to lose.

"You have to be careful with that game. You play it too well and you may lose by winning. I think you could let him stew for another day or two, though. So, he's never told you how he feels?"

"He says he wants to have a relationship, but I am not sure what that means to him. Human relationships are often quite transient."

"You met my mother and father on this trip. They've been married for almost thirty years now. And how long have Trip's parents been married?"

"Forty-three years, I was told."

"Well, there's another good example. And you and Trip _were_ married on Lorian's _Enterprise_, and that worked out."

"Those were different people in a different environment."

"Not that different. And Trip strikes me as a pretty loyal guy. You'll never know the answer unless you try."

"Your argument is logical and I have always tried to live my life logically."

Hoshi laughed. "I guess that's romance Vulcan style! Oh, my toes are starting to wrinkle. I think it's time to move on to the next phase. You'll like this."

Hoshi got out of the bath and wrapped herself in her towel. "Come on, over here," she said as she walked to the wooden door in the small building with the showers. She waited until T'Pol joined her.

"OK, let's go in quick." She opened the door and a blast of hot air hit them. Inside was a room completely lined with wood. A thermometer on the wall read 80 Celsius.

"This is _warm,__" _said T'Pol as she sat down on a bench.

"I thought you would like this. We could use one of these on the ship too if you're asking Trip to build things."

T'Pol ignored her, basking in the heat.

After a few minutes Hoshi said, "You're not even sweating! I know this is pretty warm even for Vulcan."

"Sweating wastes moisture. If you see a Vulcan sweating he is close to heat stroke."

"Well, that's as much sauna as I can take. You should stay as long as you like. I'll catch up on Japanese television. There's a cold plunge outside but you may not enjoy that."

"I think I will stay here in the sauna for a while and avoid anything _cold_. Thank you, Hoshi."

T'Pol stayed in the sauna for another 30 minutes. It was quite warm, even by Vulcan standards. The air outside felt frigid in contrast and she hurried back to the main building.

Hoshi was watching television and tried to explain what was happening to T'Pol, but it seemed to mainly consist of people watching each other eat. T'Pol excused herself to meditate and sleep. It was still rather early but even with medicines to adjust her body clock there had still been a lot of traveling and new experiences the last couple of days.

T'Pol began her meditation routine already feeling at peace. She had a firm idea of what to do about Trip and would contact him when she got back to the ship tomorrow. This trip to Japan had been a very good idea.

She concentrated on her breathing and easily cleared her mind and then slipped into her familiar white space.

Suddenly, she felt another presence. A familiar presence.

"Trip?"

_Thanks__ to __Alelou__ for__ her__ advice__ and__ editing.__ All__ that __angsty __stuff __is __almost __laid __to __rest!_


	24. Chef, In the Galley, With the Clue Stick

_Author's note: Way back in Chapter 6 I mentioned that I had skipped ahead to write the TnT chapters. This is one of those chapters. I wasn't planning to have..17! chapters in between but the plot or maybe just my writing style got a little out of hand._

_Thanks as always to Alelou for her support and advice._

**Chapter 24 - Chef. In the Galley. With the Clue Stick.**

August 3, 2156 2100 (Pacific Time) – _Enterprise_ in orbit around Earth (Sol III)

After dropping Julie off at her hotel, Trip headed back to _Enterprise_. Surviving a number of travel mishaps he finally got back to the ship at 2100 hours and went to the mess to get some dinner. Most of the crew on board had already eaten and pickings were thin on the sideboard. He walked into the galley to see if he could cadge something better from Chef.

The galley was warm and there were rich smells coming from pots on the stove. Chef was chopping vegetables. Trip knew that he was using the time with a reduced crew on board to make up meals he could keep in stasis for those times when it just wasn't feasible to cook. He was a tall man at 6'2", in his early fifties, a few pounds overweight, with a beard and a jovial personality – when he wasn't being crossed.

"Hi Trip. He smiled. "I thought you were taking shore leave."

"No, it was just a day trip."

"I didn't see you in the mess earlier. You looking for some dinner?"

"You got any of that catfish and hush puppies left in stasis?"

"Uh oh, comfort food. Want to talk about it?" He walked over to the stasis unit and pulled out a plate of catfish, added a few hush puppies from another unit and put the plate into the reheater.

"No. Well, maybe."

Chef went back to chopping vegetables while the reheater whined. His hands moved deftly – chop, chop, chop – with no wasted movements. "What's going on?"

Trip sighed. "I don't know. I can't figure out what direction I should be going in."

The reheater dinged. Chef pulled the plate out and put it on the counter in front of Trip.

"Hold on a second, let me find you some silverware." He rummaged in a drawer. "T'Pol giving you headaches again?"

He put the silverware in front of Trip and went back to his cutting board.

"There's nothing going on between me and T'Pol, Chef, how many times do I have to tell ya?"

Chef kept chopping. "Trip, everybody on this ship knows there's _something_ going on between you two. You eat most of your meals together, you're thick as thieves working on some project or other most of the time, every time you turn your back she's giving you some goopy-eyed look and every time she turns her back you're giving _her_ some goopy-eyed look. You're the two most involved uninvolved people I've ever seen."

Trip took a bite of his catfish. "I thought we were going to spend some time together but she disappeared on me. Then, I spent today with a real nice gal; she was from Florida, smart, pretty, just the kind I used to go after." He sighed, speared a hush puppy with his fork and took a bite.

Chef kept chopping. "And?"

Trip chewed and swallowed. "And nothing. I spent the whole time comparing her to T'Pol. How did I find myself mooning after someone who's not only from another planet, she's from a whole other solar system? She says she's not ready for a relationship and I should give her some time, but it's taking a while. I just don't know if I should push harder or wait or just give up. But I can't seem to just give up."

"You're letting your catfish get cold. I'll tell you a long story while you eat."

"OK, I'm all ears."

"Did I ever tell you I used to be married?"

"No, you never say much about your past. I know you were on the _Saratoga_ before _Enterprise_ but not much beyond that."

"Well, I usually save this story for the hard cases. Just remember…" he shook his knife at Trip and Trip chorused with him, "What's said in the galley stays in the galley. I have to maintain my man of mystery aura, you know. Anyhow, before I joined Starfleet, I used to own and run a restaurant in Sausalito. Not the best restaurant in the Bay Area, but I thought it was in the top 10. It used to be on 2nd St. The Blue Lion."

"Can't say I ever heard of it."

"Oh, it was before your time. I sold it in '35 and the new owners ran it into the ground real quick.

Anyhow, I got married young. My wife was a paralegal and I was a line cook who wanted to run a restaurant. She used to work in downtown SF and I worked in the restaurant across the street from her building.

We got married, her parents loaned us some money, and I started the Blue Lion. Worked my ass off, seven days a week, up at five to buy produce, staying until two to kick the last drunks out. In three years the Blue Lion had quite a reputation and a bunch of great reviews. Two years later she divorced me saying she never saw me and I had to sell the Blue Lion as part of the divorce settlement."

"Well, that sucks." Trip looked morosely at his plate.

"Yes, it did. My point is that you have to know what you want and what's really important to you. I loved that woman, I really did. I thought I wanted to own a restaurant but really I wanted to be married to Vy. Wound up without either."

"So how did you end up in Starfleet?"

"Well, being right there by the north exit from HQ, the Blue Lion was a Starfleet hangout. When I sold it, Captain Chang offered me a berth on _Excelsior_ and the rest is history."

Chef went back to chopping vegetables. Trip had a couple more bites of his catfish.

Trip spoke up. "So, what you're saying is, if I want T'Pol, I need to go for it."

"Wow, I heard you were a fast learner. Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. You only go around once, Trip. Don't have any regrets."

"Well, that's easy to say. You know, T'Pol and I actually, um, 'got together" once in the Expanse."

Chef's jaw dropped. "What do you mean 'once'?"

"It was just the one time."

"Then what were you doing in her quarters every night?"

"Just what I was always saying, Vulcan neuro-pressure."

"You had the whole ship convinced you two were going at it like rabbits. Except for the Captain who is such a big boy scout he couldn't consider anyone actually having S…E…X on his ship. Little does he know!"

"Who else has been busy?"

"Uh uh uh – what's said in the galley…"

"Stays in the galley, I know. But we're in the galley."

Yes, but it's your galley right now, not someone else's galley. No one loves a gossip, especially not on a ship this small."

"Chef, everyone gossips with you!"

"No, everyone gossips TO me. There's a difference. OK, so you did the deed and then what?"

"Well, there was an alert and some alien passing through walls."

"Oh yeah, I remember that night. He skipped right through a roast I had in the oven. Sounds like you two were having a much better time."

"So, we're running around like mad and don't get a chance to see each other until the next morning. So, I see her at breakfast in the mess, and she looks at me and thanks me for 'helping her to explore human sexuality' as she put it."

"And?"

"What and? She jerks me around like that all the time. On and off, hot and cold."

"Trip, what did you expect her to say?" Chef switched to an exaggerated Southern accent. "'Oh, Trip honey, thanks to your hot loving ah'm no longer a Vulcan but instead ah'm a Southern belle and will serve mint juleps and titter behind mah fan whenever you make a funny'?"

Trip turned a little red. "No! But I expected her to at least acknowledge that she had feelings for me. She damn near broke Amanda Cole's arm right before that because she thought me and Amanda had been going at it. Then she was back to just cold as ice."

Chef gave Trip another look. "Hmmm…missed that one about you and Amanda. I'll have to get some new spies. Look, Trip, she's a Vulcan."

"I know that!"

"You don't seem to. Vulcans spend all their time denying that they have feelings or emotions. They don't know how to talk about them. You know, at the Blue Lion, I used to get the Vulcans coming in from Starfleet HQ all the time. Any time they were working late at HQ and missed dinner at the embassy they wound up at the Blue Lion. That's when I perfected my plomeek broth technique. I used to watch to see how far they would raise their eyebrows after taking the first sip. I knew I had it when they started closing their eyes instead."

"OK."

"If there was just one Vulcan, they'd always be finding some 'logical' reason why they should have my kick ass pesto, or the vegetarian chili or the tiramisu. 'Oh, I am sure it is too much trouble to make a Vulcan style meal.' 'Oh, Chef Ryder, I cannot take up a table just drinking tea after my meal. I will order dessert.'"

Trip started laughing.

"But, you get two or more Vulcans together and it's plomeek broth, kreila and mashya every damn time. With water on the side and a healthy dessert of 'no tip'. Now, I never had a Vulcan say anything more than 'The meal was agreeable' but someone comes back three nights in a row and orders the same damn thing and you might start getting a clue that they really like it. Some of them even started leaving tips."

He glanced over at the stove. One of the pots was just starting to boil. "Just a second," he said, walking over and adjusting the heat. He came back to the table and started chopping again. He looked at Trip and said, "Didn't you go to Vulcan with her for her wedding?" He bent back to his chopping.

"Oh God, talk about messing with my head. I told her I didn't have any place to go for shore leave, she invites me to come to Vulcan with her, in that back handed, no emotions way of hers. We're staying at her mom's house with mom giving me the stink eye, seeing the sights and the next thing I know she's getting married."

Chef looked up, surprised. "So you didn't know she was getting married?"

Trip was getting agitated. He stood up from the table and started pacing. He threw his hands in the air. "She didn't know she was getting married. She thought she'd shit-canned the whole thing years ago. So there I am, standing at her wedding like a monkey in the Vatican. She kisses me on the cheek, then goes and does the ceremony."

Chef put his knife down on the cutting board. "Uh huh. I thought she was betrothed to him since they were kids. If they could cancel that before why did she suddenly have to get married?"

Trip sat back down. "Jesus, nothing gets past you, Chef. Well, her mom was in trouble and Koss' family promised that they would help her out. Claims she never even slept with him, poor guy. Then, after her mom was killed, Koss let her out of the marriage." He started pushing his catfish around his plate with his fork.

Chef looked at Trip for a long moment. He said, "Just a second." He walked over to the cooling rack on the other side of the kitchen and selected a long baguette. Trip looked on with anticipation. Chef usually used those for his bruschetta and other hors d'oeuvres. A couple of nibbles of something really tasty to go with the catfish might be just the ticket.

Chef came back with the baguette in his hand and whacked Trip across the head with it. Half of the loaf broke off and went flying across the galley.

"Ow! What was that for?" Trip rubbed his head.

"That was your wake up call, boy!" Chef bellowed. "I have never, ever, ever heard of a Vulcan kissing anybody for any reason at any time and this woman kisses you right before she goes off to get married to save her mother? It's not that she's not telling you her feelings, it's that you're so damned thick she'd have to get her point across with a hammer."

"Look, she was married! I don't care what kind of marriage it was, I couldn't go messing with that."

"That's commendable, but now she's not married."

"Well, after I came back from _Columbia_ we were supposed to work on our relationship but then there was that whole Terra Prime mess and Elizabeth. I was so happy when I found her. T'Pol bonded with her right away too. And then, she…" Trip choked up.

Chef looked away and swallowed. "We all got affected by that. To create a child and treat it that way…I know I've said it before, but I'm just so sorry, Trip."

"I know." Trip took a moment to compose himself. "Anyhow, after all of that happened T'Pol just couldn't pull herself together and finally she said that she just couldn't handle any emotions and that we should just be friends. Back at Andoria we talked about starting things up again but she said she needed more time. Since then, nothing. And that's where we're at."

"So, let me get this straight. T'Pol gets married to someone she doesn't love to save her mother, kisses YOU right before she says 'I do', then her mother dies, then she finds out someone has created a daughter from her DNA along with yours, and then the daughter dies before she even has a chance to get to know her and you're upset that she doesn't know how to deal with her emotions and have a relationship with you?"

"Well, when you put it like that it does seem a little selfish. But what should I do?"

"Well, what do you want from T'Pol? Are you expecting her to start laughing all the time and hold your hand when you walk down the corridor and pass you notes on the bridge?"

"No, no. I just want her to, I don't know, be with me."

"Hot, sweaty make outs in the decon chamber?"

"Uhhh…." Trip got kind of a glazed look as he remembered their first decon chamber session.

"Forget I asked. Look, she's a Vulcan. Her whole life she's been taught that emotions are bad, that she should be a good little Vulcan, that Humans smell, and fun is a four-letter word. She's been hit with enough tragedy, stress and just plain terror to put most people in an asylum. When anyone is hurting, they go to their comfort zone. For you, that's catfish; for her, that's being a good, emotionless Vulcan."

"Yeah, that makes sense."

"Given what you've told me and what I've seen of you two, there is no doubt in my mind that she is head over heels in love with you. She may not admit it, but she is."

"I guess I knew that too. I guess I'm just stubborn and want her to come out and say it instead of beating around the bush." He speared a hush puppy with his fork.

"She can't say it, Trip. She's not a human being. She's a Vulcan. They're not just regular folks with pointy ears. You've got to respect that and stop expecting her to react like a Human woman would. I think there's a way you can have a relationship, but it's not going to be the same as the one you would have with Miss Florida."

Chef walked over to get the bread off the floor and tossed it into the trash bin. "Look, we're going out into the dark. We're going to be out there at least five years. There's no telling if we're all coming back or even if any of us are coming back. You've got five years where you're going to be in the same ship with her so you got plenty of time to work things out. However, I don't want to see you putting it off any longer, I want you to get started on working things out now. We're going to break orbit in a couple of weeks. You should try convincing her that a relationship with a Human would be 'agreeable.' Have you ever taken her on a date?"

"Does Movie Night count?"

"No! You are going to take her out in San Francisco. I am going to give you the name of a restaurant she will love. I don't think T'Pol has ever had my kick ass pesto."

"No, I don't recall you ever making that."

"Brings back too many memories. Vy used to love it. She always hated my pot roast, though." He laughed darkly. "Anyway. You're going to take her to Incanto; I gave the owner my pesto recipe when I sold the Blue Lion. The Vulcans used to love it. You will feed her fine food, take her on a cable car, go look at the bridge, and then I believe she is partial to jazz. You will make no demands on her for declarations of feelings and you will not expect to hear anything more than 'the evening was agreeable' at the end. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" Trip felt a lot better. Maybe a whack upside the head was just what he had needed. It was easy to get into feeling sorry for himself. T'Pol needed him to accept her and support her and maybe love her. He said, "You know, we're lucky to have you on board. Jon told me one time he pulled all kinds of strings to get you here."

"He did? He is so full of it. You know, Captain Chang and I went from _Excelsior_ to _Saratoga_. That was the one BuShips went nuts on, remember?"

"I saw some of the schematics; looked like they had every junior desk jockey engineer running loose on the design."

"They did. The galley was one quarter the size of this one but they filled it full of gadgets so I 'wouldn't need' so much prep and cooking space. That I could have dealt with, but the damned grav plating was flakey as well. You haven't lived until you've got a pot of stock on the simmer and the grav plating suddenly fails and all of a sudden you're floating around in a galley the size of a small closet with ten gallons of boiling hot liquid chasing you. When you showed _The Blob_ last year at Movie Night I started having flashbacks."

Trip doubled over laughing. The laugh helped. He felt a lot of the tension draining out.

Chef continued, "When Jeffries and his team were designing the NX class they asked for my input on the galley design and they used most of the ideas. When Captain Archer got the nod to take _Enterprise_ out I called him up and told him in no uncertain terms I was going to be the chef. He said, 'You got it!' This is my damn galley and no way was I going to let someone else cook in it. Captain Chang still sends me a note every six months asking if I want to go back to _Saratoga_. Now go on and get out of here. I'll expect a full report after your date"

"Can I have a slice of pecan pie before I leave?"

Chef waved his knife at Trip. "No! You have had enough comfort food and I want to get my cooking done. Let me know when you're going and I'll give the chef at Incanto a heads up and make sure they treat you right."

August 4, 2156 0537 (Pacific Daylight Time) / August 4, 2156 2137 (Japanese Standard Time)

At the _ryokan_, T'Pol had just slipped into her familiar white space. Suddenly, she felt another presence. A familiar presence. "Trip?" she said and looked up to see him standing next to her.

"Hi, T'Pol," Trip said, as he looked down at her and smiled. He looked around. "Haven't been here in a while. Am I dreaming?"

"It is 5:37 AM ship time. You should be sleeping." As T'Pol said this it became obvious to her that his REM sleep stage had overlapped with her meditation time. Trip looked a little unfocused to her, as though he were not fully conscious.

"So I am dreaming. You're not going to tell me to leave, are you?"

"No, please sit. We can talk." Perhaps now was her chance to get some truth from him without any games.

Trip sat down in front of her, cross-legged. "OK. I like talking to you." He smiled again, somewhat muzzily.

"Did you miss me?"

"Oh, yeah! I really wanted to spend some time with you for this shore leave but then you disappeared on me."

"You should have talked with me sooner."

"You're right, I'm sorry. Can I make it up to you?"

"What do you propose?"

"Can I take you out for dinner and some jazz in San Francisco? Maybe a little sightseeing too?"

"Are you asking me on a 'date', Charles Tucker?" she asked, tilting her head.

He grinned. "Yes, ma'am – yes, I am."

"And if I accept, would we be 'dating'?"

"That would be the idea, yes."

"And after some time spent in this 'dating' phase, then what?" she said, pinning him with her eyes.

"Are you asking me if my intentions are honorable? Well, marriage would be the next step if you were agreeable."

"I see. For Vulcans, _for me_, marriage – bonded marriage – is permanent. What do you think about that, Charles Tucker?" She held her breath.

Trip leaned forward and looked deep into her eyes. "I'd say that suits me fine, ma'am."

She relaxed. She wanted to believe that, in his dream state, he would only show his true self. Perhaps it was time to simply move forward. As Hoshi had said, she would never know if she didn't try.

"Very well. I shall return to _Enterprise_ shortly. Shall we go for our date this evening?"

"Damn, I like this dream! Sure, how about we leave a little before five so we can have time for some sightseeing before dinner."

"I will send you a message. You are sleeping, but you are not dreaming, Trip."

With that, she broke out of her meditation and began making her travel plans.

The alarm woke Trip at 0700. He sat up on the edge of his bunk somewhat groggily. He remembered seeing T'Pol in her white space but the details were rapidly disappearing from his memory. _That must have been a dream, right?_

Yawning, he walked over to the viewscreen and checked his messages. One from T'Pol was at the top.

_Trip,_

_This is to confirm our excursion plans for 1645. Please meet me at my cabin then._

_T'Pol_

He did a little dance around his cabin and then started making plans.

_Author's note: I'd like to thank Chef for delivering my message and the smack upside the head to Mr. Tucker for me. This was much more satisfying than yelling at my TV. Hope you enjoyed it too!_


	25. A Night on the Town

Chapter 25 - A Night On The Town

August 4 2156 1645 (Pacific Time) – _Enterprise_ in orbit around Earth (Sol III)

The chime in T'Pol's cabin rang. She opened the door to see Trip standing there, dressed nicely in civilian clothes.

"You look lovely, T'Pol," he said.

She looked up at him, at those blue eyes and the neatly combed blond hair. So unlike the standard Vulcan bangs. She knew that a smile would be the standard Human response but she knew any attempt at a smile would look awkward.

"I'm looking forward to the evening, Trip," she said, and he smiled broadly. "Please come in," she continued. "I need to get my hat."

"Is that new?" asked Trip as she put it on.

"Yes, I purchased it in Japan." She pulled out her pocket comm and tapped at it. She looked at Trip. "Did you bring any flowers?"

"Um…sorry, no."

"I see," she said and tapped at the small screen. "Candies or other small presents? Perhaps a stuffed animal or other token symbol of a successful hunt?"

"'Symbol of a successful hunt?' What _is_ that, T'Pol?" He tried to peer at the comm.

"It is a 'date checklist'," she said as she kept it out of his view.

"It says _that_? Where did you get it?"

"I am 'reading between the lines'. The checklist is from a 'women's publication'. The questions are a fascinating insight into human psychology."

"Are you really going to grade me on this date?"

"Yes. Your score on this checklist will influence the probability of our having sexual relations at the end of the evening."

Trip laughed. "OK, OK, do it your way. I'd forgotten that I was trying to date the science officer. Shall we go?"

The flight from Spacedock went smoothly. The shuttle reached San Francisco just as the sun was setting into the Pacific. Approaching from the southwest they skimmed over the huge offshore fog bank that was waiting for evening to come onshore. Passing over the city, they made a turn to land in Sausalito. They could see the Golden Gate Bridge through the window next to their seats. Up front, the pilots were busy with the final approach. A few more seconds and the shuttle flared up and then gently came to rest on the landing pad.

They stepped out into the chilly air. T'Pol longed to have Trip put his arm around her but this was not the place for it. She said to him, "What do you have planned for this evening, Commander Tucker?"

He smiled at her. "Let's just let the evening unfold. How about we start with a little walk to build up an appetite?"

"But you do have a plan?"

"Oh yes."

"Very good," she said and pulled her comm from her purse and tapped another item on the checklist.

They traversed the headquarters building walkway and climbed up the steep path leading to the vista point at the north end of the bridge. When they reached the plaza, T'Pol looked around and didn't see anyone she recognized from Starfleet. Without their uniforms they were just another anonymous couple. She took Trip's arm. On Vulcan this would be scandalous. She enjoyed the simple pleasure of touching him, as well as a strange satisfaction at consuming forbidden fruit.

"I thought we could walk across the bridge and then take a taxi to the restaurant," said Trip.

"That would be agreeable," she said.

They walked onto the span, looking out at the San Francisco skyline. The dying rays of the sunset lit the city with orange and red highlights. Joggers and bicyclists passed them on the sidewalk. Tourists took pictures hanging over the rail. The wind whipped in from the ocean and T'Pol's hat almost blew off her head. She snatched at it.

"Whoa, you gotta watch out for the wind here. Did Hoshi help you buy that?"

"Yes, we visited a department store in Nagoya."

"So, what else did you and Hoshi do in Japan?" asked Trip.

"We stayed at her family's house the first day. I found it very tranquil."

"The only time I ever visited Japan I was just at the Osaka Starfleet base for some meetings. I snuck out to the shopping mall to pick up some gifts to bring back. That was the least tranquil place I've ever been."

"I agree, the shopping mall was very noisy. I was very nearly overwhelmed by all of the sensations. However, once we left that vicinity it was much more agreeable."

"What did you do the second day?"

"We visited Ensign Sato's family gravesite, then we spent the night at a _ryokan_, a Japanese inn. We had a traditional Japanese meal and then we took a bath together."

"Together?"

"It's common in Japanese culture apparently. The bath was the size of a small swimming pool and heated to a very pleasant temperature. It was an agreeable place to talk. I learned a lot about differences in Human culture during the trip. Your species is much more flexible than I realized."

"Really?"

"Yes. I learned that Americans such as yourself and the Captain are much louder and more emotional than Humans from some other cultures."

"Well, I guess that's true. Do you have a hankering to go live in Japan now?"

"Perhaps when we return to Earth we could visit together."

"We could do that. I think you would like Venice as well."

"Venice is in Italy, is it not?"

"Yep. It's a very old city. It's mostly for tourists now, but it's beautiful. I thought it was very tranquil when I visited. There are no roads for cars, only sidewalks and canals. You either walk or you take a boat. They don't allow any advertising, either."

"It sounds…soothing." Her nerves were still a little jangled from her return through the mall and spaceport in Osaka just a few hours before.

"We'll go someday."

They walked along, arm in arm, with all of their cares and worries put aside for the moment. All of the other pedestrians on the bridge were Human, except for three Rigelians who were several hundred meters behind them.

By the time they reached the south end of the bridge, it was twilight. The fog had almost reached the bridge. They walked down some steps into the observation area at the south end of the bridge.

"Well, do you have an appetite now?" asked Trip.

"I could eat," allowed T'Pol.

"You need to rate the excursion part on your checklist. Looking at the San Francisco skyline at sunset is considered to be very romantic, you know."

"I will keep that in mind."

Trip pulled his comm out of his pocket and punched for an autotaxi. While they waited they looked out at the bay. The three aliens from the bridge headed towards them. Trip automatically went on the defensive.

"Do you see those three?" he asked.

"Yes, they appear to be Rigelians."

"Weren't those the people who kidnapped Phlox?"

"Yes."

The Rigelians approached. One of them gestured at Trip with a black tube mounted on top of a pistol grip. He said something in Rigelian and then his translator boomed out, "Human! Make a still icon!"

Trip stepped in front of T'Pol and raised his hands. The Rigelian pushed the black device towards him again. T'Pol reached into her purse. "I hope you brought a phase pistol," Trip muttered to her.

"This may be better," T'Pol said as she stepped around him. She brought out her Universal Translator. "Please repeat your request," she said and the translator emitted a phrase.

The lead Rigelian said something and this time T'Pol's UT said, "Would you take a picture of us, please?"

"It's a camera?" said Trip as he took the device from the Rigelian.

"Yes, please look through the rear and press the button on top," came the instructions through the UT.

"You know, that translator of yours isn't very good," Trip told them.

"We have been having poor interactions all day long. We thought merely that Humans do not like tourists. This is our first visit to Earth."

"No, that thing is terrible. Where did you get it?"

"From some traders. We didn't get the name of their race but they were short with very large ears. They told us this translation pack would produce excellent 'Hewmon'."

Trip and T'Pol traded a look. "We have met them," said T'Pol. "They are not trustworthy."

A few minutes later the Rigelians went on their way with a picture of themselves in front of the now fog-shrouded bridge.

"I'm glad you had your translator instead of a phase pistol. I would have hated to get into a firefight on our night out," Trip said to T'Pol.

"I think Starfleet would disapprove of us stunning tourists."

"I never used to be so jumpy. I'm getting way too used to violence," said Trip as an autotaxi pulled up at the curb. They got in and Trip confirmed the destination on the screen in front and leaned back. The autotaxi went along the elevated highway that led down from the bridge, onto the surface streets of the Marina District and headed to North Beach. It stopped in front of a restaurant and flashed, "Destination reached" on the screen.

"Right you are, Jeeves," said Trip, tapping his universal credit card on the reader. T'Pol declined to chide him for talking to machinery. She exited first, then Trip. "Well, here it is. Chef said it was one of the best restaurants in The City and that you would enjoy the food."

T'Pol looked at him. "You have been talking to Chef."

Trip looked a little sheepish. "Well, yes."

T'Pol felt a flash of rage as her nostrils flared. "About us."

"I needed to talk to somebody. I had myself all tied up in knots. Chef whacked some sense into me. Besides, what were you and Hoshi talking about in that bath?"

T'Pol deflated a bit. "It doesn't matter what we discussed." She knew that Humans needed to talk about their private lives and it was illogical to expect Trip not to do so. And Chef was trustworthy. Calm returned to her features and she looked up at Trip. "Shall we have dinner?"

Trip gave her a skeptical "Hmmmm" as they walked towards the door.

They entered the restaurant. It was busy but not too loud. The lighting was low with candles on every table. The hostess smiled warmly at them. "Good evening, welcome to Incanto. Do you have a reservation?"

"I believe so. Should be for Charles Tucker?"

She led them to a table towards the back of the restaurant and seated them. Soon after, their waiter introduced himself and told them, "Chef Ryder had a recommended course for you. Would you like to hear that, or shall I bring some menus for you?"

"Shall we just go with Chef's recommendation?" Trip asked. T'Pol nodded. Trip said to the waiter, "We trust Chef. Why don't you just surprise us with what he recommended."

Wine was brought out and poured. Then, an appetizer of _caprese_, slices of heirloom tomatoes topped with fresh basil and house-made fresh mozzarella was served.

T'Pol cut a slice of the _caprese_ and put it in her mouth with her fork. Her keen sense of smell made the flavors very intense, but pleasurably so.

On the other side of the table, Trip was enjoying the meal immensely. Aside from being with T'Pol, the food was damned good. He was used to institutional food after years of being in Starfleet. What Chef made was several steps up but the freshness and quality of the ingredients available in deep space limited what he could do. No tomatoes grown in Enterprise's hydroponic garden could match what they were eating. These were the flavors of Earth. You couldn't take this with you out into the dark. But you could take your friends and maybe even a loved one with you. And you could defend this; protect it, so that you had something to come back to.

Following the _caprese_ was a salad of baby greens with caramelized walnuts and a balsamic vinaigrette dressing. Trip's had Gorgonzola cheese on top but T'Pol's did not. The waiter also brought a basket of focaccia bread.

They sipped their wine and ate their salads and bread. The focaccia was warm and tangy with rosemary. When the salads were finished, bowls of Chef's "kick ass pesto" were brought out. This turned out to be a basil pesto with a variety of fresh, cooked and preserved ingredients. The pasta had been freshly boiled but the other ingredients were mixed in cold, making it pleasantly warm.

T'Pol raised a fork full high enough that she could take in all of the aromas. She could smell each ingredient separately but wasn't familiar enough with Earth foods to identify them all. She knew the smells individually were agreeable and the combination smelled irresistible. She saw no reason to resist so she put the forkful in her mouth and savored it as she chewed with her eyes closed.

Trip almost burst out laughing. "Are you enjoying your meal, T'Pol?" he asked.

She speared a piece of lightly fried eggplant with her fork, put it in her mouth, chewed and swallowed before saying, "It is agreeable."

Trip laughed. "Chef said you would say that."

She quirked her eyebrow at him, speared a piece of pasta, chewed, swallowed and defiantly said, "I like it."

"If I'd known fine food was your weakness I would have taken you out in San Francisco a long time ago."

"This will rate positively on the checklist."

As Trip smiled broadly, T'Pol reached out and took his hand. She took another bite and worked hard at projecting the flavors she was experiencing to him.

Trip gasped. "Is that from you, T'Pol? Is that what you're tasting?"

She nodded.

"That was intense."

Dessert was slices of apple tart with vanilla bean gelato. Trip asked for a small espresso and T'Pol had chamomile tea.

"That was a damn good meal," said Trip.

"As I said, I liked it," agreed T'Pol. "I wonder why Chef has never prepared this dish before. He makes many other vegetarian specialties."

"He said his ex-wife used to love it and making it brings back too many memories for him." Trip shook his head. "T'Pol, I don't want us to be ex-anythings."

T'Pol reached across the table and touched his hand. "Trip, I am not going anywhere."

Trip grinned at her. She relished his joy, letting it leak through the bond to her. Her face remained composed as she looked into his eyes. Emotions were hard for her to handle, but not him. It was logical for each partner to experience and share what they were best at.

Trip said, "Maybe you're not going anywhere but I'm going to take you someplace. The night is still young!"

They settled the bill, made some small talk with the owner, who had come out of the kitchen to see them off, and exited into the chilly night. The fog was high off the ground, but still made everything damp, and the cold wind cut through T'Pol's light jacket. Trip wrapped his arm around her and they walked up towards Mason St.

T'Pol asked Trip, "What is that noise?" as she began to hear a humming noise, intermixed with occasional muted clanks.

Trip said, "It's the cable for the cable cars. Haven't you ever ridden on one?"

"No," she said. "I've seen them from a distance and in pictures and videos. I thought they were electric."

"Oh no, darlin'. These are traditional! See that slot in between the tracks? The cable runs down there and the cars grab onto it to move around. It was originally powered by steam engines but they use electric motors now. I don't think they've really changed anything since the 20th century. I love this stuff. You can fix it with a hammer!"

A cable car came up the street, its headlight somewhat dim compared to the hover cars. The gripman rang the bell as he came to the intersection, manipulating the levers to bring the car to a stop.

"That does not appear safe," said T'Pol. "There are no safety restraints!"

"Oh, it's pretty safe. They don't go very fast. Come on, live a little. They're fun!"

She couldn't deny him. He was like a small child sometimes. It was pleasant to feel his enthusiasm. Why had she denied their bond for so long?

"Very well."

"Look, there's a space at the front. That's the best spot."

"Hurry up you two, I haven't got all night," called the grip man to them.

They scrambled up the running boards and onto the bench. T'Pol sat at the very front, right behind the window with Trip sitting close behind her. The grip man reached up and jangled the cord for the small signal bell rapidly, the traditional cable car crew signal for "hot girl on board". Trip and T'Pol were unaware.

_Bing,__bing_. The small bell rang twice as the conductor on the rear platform signaled that it was OK to go. "Lovely night for a date," the grip man said, as he rang the big bell lustily and pulled on the grip handle. The cable car smoothly accelerated across the flat intersection and climbed up the hill. The conductor came up front and Trip paid with his credit card as the man checked out T'Pol.

They climbed the hill, intersections came and went, the grip man worked his levers and pedals and rang his bell. The rhythm of the cable car, the quiet, competent cooperation of its crew and its slow but steady progress was calming to T'Pol.

"Hold tight there folks!" called out the gripman as they went full speed into the turn onto Powell Street. Trip grinned widely at the rush, even though the cable car never topped nine and a half miles an hour, the steady speed of the cable. They went up the Powell Street slope, stopping close to the crest at California Street to let passengers on and off.

They clattered across California St and then tilted sharply downward. Suddenly T'Pol could see all the way down to the shops at the bottom of the hill, their lights glowing intensely. T'Pol clamped down on a minor frisson of fear. There was no logical reason there would be a problem. The system had been in use for hundreds of years. She felt Trip's calm and knew everything was OK. She leaned back into him.

The grip man and the conductor were both working now to slow the car, the grip man standing on the foot brake and the conductor on the back platform working his handle, ratcheting the steel brakes against the rear wheels.

T'Pol could hear the ratchet, the hum of the cable, the hiss of the brakes against the wheels and tracks. Suddenly she smelled a sharp smell that hadn't been present before.

"Something is burning!" she said loudly. Fire was a constant threat on hot, dry Vulcan and the cable car was made completely of wood. It was not something to ignore or it could get out of control rapidly, consuming one, just like emotions.

"Don't worry ma'am. That's just the brakes. They're wood blocks rubbing against the tracks. Get a little hot and put off some smoke, that's all." The grip man chuckled.

"Next stop, please," said Trip. The cable car came to a stop in the middle of the intersection. Hovercars waited politely. T'Pol and Trip climbed down quickly. "Thanks for the ride!" shouted Trip as they walked around the front of the car. "Any time," replied the grip man. He watched T'Pol walk away until the two bells sounded and it was time to go.

"That was the most primitive vehicle I have ever ridden on," T'Pol said as they walked up the street.

"Oh. Well, we don't have to do it again. I just wanted you to try it," said Trip, a little crestfallen.

"We may ride it again. It is traditional, is it not?" she said as she turned her face to him and lifted her eyebrow.

Trip looked into her eyes for a long moment. "T'Pol," he started.

"Don't talk, Trip," she said, putting a finger on his lips. Talking always led to misunderstanding.

"No, I gotta talk. You don't have to, I know it's something you can't do, so I gotta say it for both of us. I love you. I want to be with you however you'll have me."

She looked down at the ground. "Trip, you must know. I…I am not whole. I cannot be a proper Vulcan and I cannot be a proper Human, either. I am 'damaged goods'."

He put his finger under her chin and lifted her head to look into her eyes. "T'Pol, there is nothing wrong with you. I love your logic. I love your bravery. I love the way you argue with me and I love the way you tease me. I love how beautiful you are. I love the curve of your back and the points of your ears. You don't have to be a 'proper Vulcan' for me or a 'proper Human' for me. Just be T'Pol. That's all I'm lookin' for. You don't have to say you love me. I already know how you feel."

He put one arm around her and his hand behind her head and kissed her on the lips. She kissed him back, clinging to him. They were not Human and Vulcan, they were just Trip and T'Pol.

They broke the kiss. He held her in his arms. She put her cheek against his. "I want to be with you, Trip."

"Well, after _that_ kiss I kinda figured. But if you feel the need to cool things down, just let me know. I'm not going anywhere. We've got five years out there in the dark coming up. We got plenty of time to figure things out and work on our relationship. All I ask is that you be honest with me. I didn't want to waste any more time getting started, though. Now, how about some jazz?"

"I would…like that," she said.

"Good. It's just another block." They held hands and started walking again.

Trip spoke, gently. "And you don't have to say you like things. Things can be 'agreeable'. I know what you mean."

"You don't like it when I say I like something?"

"I do, but I don't expect it. It's an extra. You don't need to change for me. Just be yourself. Whatever you want to be. I'll be there for you."

She had always thought he wanted her to be more emotional, to be more Human. She had never just been accepted before. Everyone always wanted her to be something that she wasn't. Maybe this was love. Whatever it was, she liked it.

They found the club and a quiet table. Trip ordered a beer, T'Pol a hot cocoa. As before, the music elated her. This time, however, there was no guilt. No one she cared about would censure her for being here, for _enjoying_ the music. She could be in control of her emotions. She could follow the path of Surak _and_ be happy, be content.

A couple of hours passed pleasantly. She wound up with her chair next to Trip's, leaning against him with her head on his shoulder. It was good.

Trip checked the time. "We'd better get going or we're going to miss the last shuttle up."

She kept her head on his shoulder. "I do not wish to return to _Enterprise_ tonight."

"I thought you had duty in the morning. I know I do."

"I asked the Captain to take my shift and I have already notified Lieutenant Hess that she should take over the alpha shift in Engineering tomorrow. "Rank Hath Its Privileges," I believe the Captain would say."

"You sneak! Well, if we're going to stay planet side, let's do it in style. Let me find us a nice hotel."

He pulled out his comm and started tapping, "Uh, one or two rooms?" he asked.

"I must check your score on the checklist. There were no grading instructions so I will have to make up a grading curve. Please tell me expected outcomes for a date and their likelihood."

Trip rolled his tongue in his cheek. "Let's see. Five percent end in a slap and a huffy exit before the end of the date. Twenty five point three percent result in a hug. Twenty seven point eight result in a good night kiss and thirty seven point five percent result in being invited in for tea with sexual relations following."

"That does not sum to one hundred."

"Seventy five percent of all statistics are made up on the spot."

She raised her eyebrow at him. "I see. That explains much of the difficulty the Vulcan Science Academy has had analyzing Human society."

She focused on the screen in mock calculation and let him wait for a moment before saying flatly, "One room will suffice."

Trip jabbed fiercely at his comm and finished the reservation. The "express check in" gave him a room number.

They left the club and walked down to Union Square. The cable cars clattered past on Powell St. The doormen blew their whistles and ushered guests in and out of autotaxis.

Into the hotel, across the lobby, up the elevator. Trip's credit card served as the key and then they were in the room slamming the door behind them. Kissing her, he backed her onto the bed.

T'Pol eagerly pulled him down to her. This time she had no doubts about what she was doing. The first time had been good but this was better.

Afterwards, they lay in the bed, cuddled up close together. It was wonderful and, most importantly, it was.

August 4 2156 2320 (Pacific Time) – Inner Oort Cloud, approximately 2 light weeks from Sol

The modified warbird _Alidar_ dropped out of warp in the area known to Humans as the Inner Oort Cloud, two light weeks or three hundred sixty billion kilometers from Sol and two and a half hours, at warp five, from Gardner's perimeter patrols. The Oort Cloud was the source for many comets, considered bad omens in ancient times, but in reality only harmless spectacles.

The crews worked rapidly, launching the drones away from the carrier. Three minutes later the last drone was deployed and the carrier returned to warp, its signature tuned to imitate a Tellarite freighter.

The drones turned toward Earth and engaged their impulse engines. When they reached ninety percent of light speed the crews on the _Alidar_ shut them down and they continued inward, dark and undetectable. There would be no omens to announce them.

_Author's note: I always felt that the TV show really underused San Francisco as a backdrop. They could have at least come up with a decent Chinese restaurant name (I mean, seriously, "Madame Chang's"?). I grew up in San Francisco and it's one of my favorite spots. I convinced my wife to move to the US and part of the convincing was taking her on a date like this. I think the cable car ride was the clincher._

_I'm sure that Trip tipped their waiter, so be sure to tip your author and leave a review!_

_Thanks to Alelou for her advice and support. _


	26. You'll Look Good in Striped Pants

Chapter 26 - You'll Look Good In Striped Pants

August 6 2156 1120 (Pacific Time) – _Enterprise_ Ready Room, Earth orbit (Sol III)

Jonathan Archer moped in his Ready Room, bouncing his favorite water polo ball off the wall. He had received a memo that morning to prepare space for three diplomatic personnel. That had to mean they were assigning an ambassador and his staff to the mission. All he needed was some Ministry of Foreign Affairs idiot who had never been off planet meddling every time they tried to make a first contact. He had complained to Admiral Gardner and been told to "like it or lump it." He supposed this was lumping it.

Hoshi was sitting in the command chair, alone on the bridge. Even though they were docked, this counted as command time, which she needed. The bridge was quiet except for the sound of the captain's water polo ball bouncing off the Ready Room wall: thud, thud, thud. It drove her nuts when he did that.

T'Pol and Trip had returned to the ship briefly the previous day before taking shore leave. They had left separately but their communicators were both in Hawaii. She hoped they were having a good time together. At least they didn't have to listen to the damn ball. She had seen T'Pol wince in time to the bounces on more than one occasion. Hoshi brightened when the comm station beeped with an incoming transmission.

"You look troubled, Captain," said Soval as he regarded Archer from the Ready Room viewscreen.

Archer sighed. "Oh, it's just Earth politics. They're assigning an ambassador to our mission." Jon tried to compose his features but a hint of a scowl twisted his face nonetheless.

"And this is not to your liking, I take it."

"Damn it, I'm the most qualified diplomat Earth has, especially for first contacts!" He calmed himself. "Sorry, you don't need to hear this."

Soval looked away from the viewscreen and steepled his fingers for a moment. He turned back. "Your mission is being undertaken under Coalition auspices. Any ambassador will need to be approved by the council."

"Would you be willing to block it for me?" Funny how Vulcan's ambassador had gone from one of the people he trusted least to one of his most valued allies.

"No, we won't go directly against Earth's wishes on something like this. However, Earth will not go against the Coalition's wishes, either. If a majority of the Council were to back you as ambassador, I calculate a 78.5 percent probability of your success."

Archer rubbed his chin. "I think you're right. Yes, that could work!" he said, brightening. "Sorry, I'm being rude. What did you call about?"

After finishing up with Soval, Archer made a few calls, informed Hoshi and headed for the transporter. No time to mess with shuttlepods! He materialized in front of the Andorian Embassy in Sausalito, startling a couple of pedestrians. He strode briskly toward the front door. It was going to be a busy day.

August 9 2156 1400 (Central European Time) – Office of the Prime Minister, Brussels, Earth (Sol III)

Archer hated the Star Fleet dress uniform. The high collar tended to rub against the bottom of his jaw. At least it didn't button all the way up, so it wasn't too tight around his neck. He sat nervously in a waiting room, butterflies in his stomach. The Prime Minister's secretary came in to get him and he rose, tugging down the jacket. He couldn't back out now.

As he entered Prime Minister Samuel's office, the PM got up from behind his desk and came around to shake Archer's hand then directed him to a chair in front of his desk. Archer was too nervous to notice the decorations in the office.

"Prime Minister, thank you for meeting with me on such short notice."

The PM eased himself back into his chair. "Always glad to see you, Jon. You told my secretary you wanted to discuss the diplomatic arrangements for your mission?"

"Yes, sir, specifically, who's being appointed as ambassador."

"I'm not sure. I saw a memo from Brad about a diplomatic mission, but I haven't confirmed an ambassador yet."

Archer took a deep breath and leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees. "Well, I'd like to throw my hat into the ring."

The PM looked a little surprised. "Really? Well, thank you for your interest, but I'm sure Minister Whitford has someone in mind. If that doesn't work out, I can float you as a possibility."

Archer shook his head slightly. He'd stood before the Klingon High Council; he could do this. He looked the PM in the eye. "I'd hate for us to disappoint the Coalition Council. I've spoken to all of the representatives and they've all told me that they really want the Coalition to be represented by someone with experience in deep space – and they think I'd be the perfect candidate."

Samuels narrowed his eyes. "You really want this, is that it? You need to be careful about how you deliver your punches. I know you're one hundred percent behind Earth but looking like you're too close with the other powers, well, that's not always healthy."

"I guess I'm just not that good at politics, sir."

"Good enough to be dangerous is more like it." He shrugged. "Well, anything for Earth's greatest hero. Let me talk to Brad and I'll have him get back to you, Ambassador."

August 9 2156 1835 (Central European Time) – Office of the Prime Minister, Brussels, Earth (Sol III)

"Is there anything else we need to discuss, Prime Minister?" asked Whitford.

"Oh, Jonathan Archer from _Enterprise_ didn't want to have an ambassador looking over his shoulder on his mission and managed to get all of the Coalition representatives to support _him_ as the ambassador instead. I know you had someone in mind, is it a big deal?"

Whitford frowned. "Well, no, it was really just a campaign contributor I wanted to get out of my hair. He hasn't figured out yet that they're not coming back to Earth at all for five years."

"So are you OK with giving it to Archer?"

"Yes, but let's not let him know that the diplomatic staff handles all the real work. Hopefully he'll be too far away to raise a stink before he figures that out."

August 10 0830 (Pacific Time) - _Enterprise_ Ready Room, Earth orbit (Sol III)

Archer made the call to Foreign Affairs Minister Whitford's office with some trepidation.

"Well, _Ambassador_, welcome to the Foreign Service."

"Thank you, Minister. I hope I'm not causing you too much trouble."

"Very diplomatic, you're learning! Look, Jon, this is an important posting and I had one of my top people lined up. I want you to take this seriously."

"Yes sir, I will."

"Good. I also want you to have some backup so I'm assigning one of my best negotiators to you."

Archer frowned. "With all due respect, Minister, I do pretty well at negotiating."

Whitford leaned toward the screen. "With all due respect, when it comes to Foreign Affairs you work for _me_ and I want her to go with you."

August 12 2156 0830 (Pacific Time) – Earth orbit (Sol III)

The man in the nice suit stretched in his seat and yawned. "What do you think, Veena, should we have a last drink from the diplomatic minibar? Those Starfleet shuttles are a little barebones," he said. The Foreign Service shuttle they were riding in was comfortable but not opulent. The two were the only passengers.

"No, I don't think that's a good idea, Tom," replied the equally well-dressed woman as she continued to look out the window at the white expanse of Siberia. Her voice held a hint of an Australian accent.

"Oh, come on, I bet Ambassador Wu would have had a last drink."

"Just be glad you won't have to listen to Wu whine about us being out of _baijiu_. Which would have started about a week after we broke orbit at the rate he drinks."

Tom laughed. "I still can't believe he didn't know we were really going to be gone five years. At least Archer isn't such an idiot."

"I'm not sure what Archer is. The briefing I got was…interesting. Sometimes he's naïve, sometimes he's stupid, and sometimes he's a genius. He's almost always lucky."

"I'll take lucky. At least he's smart some of the time which is more than I can say for Wu."

"Wu didn't seem interested in any of the actual diplomatic work. I'm afraid that Archer will want to handle the negotiations himself and he doesn't seem to be a good haggler. We're hearing through back channels that we overpaid a lot on the shield generator deal."

"Fortunately for me, that's your problem. I'm just here to dot the i's and cross the t's." He smirked.

"With any luck, paperwork will be all that requires your skills."

They passed the remainder of the short trip with scurrilous gossip about various Foreign Service staff and ambassadors.

Veena Patel squared her shoulders as the hatch to _Enterprise_ slid open. Three Starfleet officers were waiting to greet them. She recognized Archer right away. She hadn't received background information on the rest of the crew.

"Ms. Patel, Mr. Lee, welcome aboard," Archer said. "This is Lieutenant Reed and Ensign Sato. A lot of the crew is still on shore leave so it's a little quiet around here right now."

Ensign Sato was assigned to show them to their quarters. Veena thought she didn't look old enough to drink, let alone be a command officer. As they walked down the corridor Veena asked her, "What's your specialty, Ensign?"

"I'm the communications officer."

"You've been fully trained on the Universal Translators then?"

Hoshi smiled faintly and said, "You could say that."

"They started acting up at the first Coalition of Planets conference. If we hadn't gotten a fix for them we wouldn't have been able to get any of the negotiations done. I'm worried we won't be able to get priority fixes on this mission."

"I wouldn't worry about that Ms. Patel. I'm sure that I can get us any fixes we need for the UT's."

Veena looked at the young ensign. _So confident – I bet losing a few weeks pay would take her down a notch or two._ "I hope so. It looks like we'll be spending a lot of time on the ship. What do you do for fun?"

"We have Movie Night once a week. The gym is popular too."

"How about cards? I like a friendly game of poker."

"Oh, poker!" Sato squealed and clapped her hands. "I haven't played since the Academy. That could be fun!"

_Author's note: Sorry for the delay, I've been blocking on this chapter for a while. Thanks as always to Alelou for her support. Happy New Year!_


	27. On the Beach

_Sorry, this chapter took longer than I wanted it to. Thanks as always to Alelou for beta'ing and dialogsmithing._

Chapter 27 - On the Beach

August 6 2156 0623 (Hawaii Standard Time) – Naniloa Resort, Hilo, Hawaii, Earth (Sol III)

T'Pol woke to the warm glow of the sun through the curtains. Trip was still asleep next to her. She snuggled against him, comfortable with his closeness and the soft, _fluffy_ bed. Humans! Even their furniture was seductive. She'd never stayed at a resort before and while her bunk on _Enterprise_ was softer than a typical Vulcan bed, it didn't invite one to spend the entire day lying in it. She thought about what the day held in store for her and decided that staying in bed had its attractions.

Trip stirred and asked sleepily, "What time is it?"

"Six twenty three," she replied into his back.

"Is that a new record for you?"

"I am enjoying being in bed with my _boyfriend_," she said, trying out the unfamiliar word.

Trip chuckled. "My parents are due in at nine thirty. I think we have time for a quickie, a shower and breakfast. What do you say?"

She responded by holding him tighter.

"Are you nervous about meeting my parents?"

"Vulcans do not get nervous."

He found her hand and squeezed it. "You can't lie to me about your feelings anymore, T'Pol. I can feel you in my head."

She held on tight for another moment before pushing away and sitting up in the bed. "Trip, there is something I must tell you."

He sat up, scooted around behind her and enveloped her in his arms. "You feel scared, honey. Relax. There's nothing you can tell me that will make me stop loving you."

She leaned back against him. "I told you the other night that I am not whole. A normal Vulcan does not feel nervousness or fear. We do not just hide our feelings; we suppress them completely. Things have happened to me that have compromised that control."

"I can see how that's important to you, but it's not a problem for me." He stroked her hair.

"The damage is the result of some foolish behavior on my part." As she explained to him about Tolaris and the forced mind meld she could feel Trip's anger rising.

"I knew there was something creepy about that son of a bitch! If I ever run across him again he'll be sorry."

"If _I_ ever see him again he will have reason to be sorry." She went on to explain the Pa'nar Syndrome and how T'Pau had cured her.

"I thought you were acting weird some of the time. But you're all better now?"

"The Pa'nar syndrome is cured. However, there is more." She closed her eyes. "After the _Seleya_, after I recovered from the trellium poisoning, I felt empty." She brought her knees up in front of her and wrapped her arms around them. "While the trellium was in my system I was able to access emotions in a way I had never experienced. I wanted - I _needed_ - to keep those feelings. So I experimented on myself."

Trip held her tightly. "What did you do?"

"I began injecting myself with small doses of trellium-D."

Trip was quiet for a moment. T'Pol waited, apprehensive until he said, "I thought that stuff was deadly for Vulcans."

"I thought small quantities would be safe. I was wrong."

"What made you want to be more emotional? You were always on the rest of us whenever we weren't being 'logical'."

"I discovered it was easier to deal with the crew when I could share the feelings they were having."

Trip was silent for a long moment, and then sighed. "We really broke you, didn't we? I'm so sorry, honey."

"I thought that I could stop whenever I wanted to. It turns out that trellium-D is also addictive."

"Are you still using it?" To her surprise, concern - not anger - was what she felt from him.

"No. Phlox helped me break the addiction. But…not until after Azati Prime. Eighteen people may well have lost their lives because of my foolishness." She put her head on her knees and waited for the blast. Again, the expected anger did not come

"Whoa, hold on there. Azati Prime was a no-win scenario."

"If I had not been emotionally compromised I could have made better decisions."

"We were all emotionally compromised! And outgunned. The only way we could have done better in that battle would have been to avoid it. And if we had left when the Captain took off to blow up the weapon, we wouldn't have been there to pick him up when the Aquatics let him go. And if we hadn't had the Captain, would we have been able to stop the weapon?"

"I don't know."

"I don't know either. But I doubt it."

"Eighteen people are still dead."

"Ten billion people could be dead. What you did was stupid, but you weren't the only one being stupid."

"I was in command. I am responsible."

He held her tighter and rocked her. "For what it's worth, I'm here for you."

She leaned back against him. "It's worth a great deal."

They sat like that for some time. Eventually, Trip said, "I think you should meditate a bit and then breakfast might help. Why are you nervous about seeing my parents, anyhow? You've met them before."

"We were not _dating_ then."

"You have nothing to worry about. Mom likes you and Dad thinks you're cute."

August 6 2156 0930 (Hawaii Standard Time) – Hilo Spaceport, Hawaii, Earth (Sol III)

The Hilo spaceport was full of Humans in vacation attire. T'Pol spotted a number of garish "Hawaiian" shirts that were even more colorful than Trip's favorites as they waited for his parents to disembark.

"There they are! Mom, Dad, over here!" Trip called as he waved. The last time T'Pol had seen Trip's parents had been at Elizabeth's memorial service. They had been dressed soberly then, as all of the other mourners had been. Today, Charles Tucker II wore what was the most outlandish shirt T'Pol had seen so far. Fluorescent parrots seemed to jump off it at her. Trip's mother, Eloise, was dressed more conservatively except for the large hat with plastic fruit arrayed around the brim.

His parents hugged Trip as T'Pol looked on with her hands clasped behind her back. They turned their attention to T'Pol and passersby in the concourse were treated to the sight of a middle-aged couple in fluorescent parrots and plastic fruit exchanging the _ta'al_ with a somewhat bemused Vulcan.

As they walked out of the terminal, Mr. Tucker said to Trip, "I'm really excited about seeing the big scopes! How'd you pull off a private tour, son?"

Trip grinned. "I made a few calls. One of the guys doing warp theory research at Berkeley knows one of the staff up on the volcano. They're all pretty excited to meet some people who do close-up astrophysics."

August 6 2156 1540 (Hawaii Standard Time) – Mauna Kea summit, Hawaii, Earth (Sol III)

"I wasn't sure if your instructions to bring a warm coat when we left _Enterprise _were an attempt at humor_,_" T'Pol said as she exited the hovercar behind Trip and his father. Trip's mother had elected to stay at the hotel. Here at the summit of Mauna Kea, 4,200 meters above sea level, it was a chilly 8 degrees Celsius and the wind was blowing strongly. The cloud layer was below them, a white expanse extending in all directions. Multiple domed buildings were dotted around the otherwise barren volcanic landscape. T'Pol wore her Starfleet issue parka.

"Good thing you listened to him," said Mr. Tucker. "Chilly up here. Do you think we could see Oahu if it was clear, Trip?"

"Naw, I checked. It's over the horizon."

"Oahu is another island, correct?" T'Pol asked, taking a position close to Trip.

"It used to be the most populated of the islands. It also had a big naval base and that was a target in World War Three. It's all uninhabitable now and will be for another few centuries." Trip shook his head. "It was a beautiful spot, from the old pictures I've seen."

"We Humans must look pretty violent to you, T'Pol," said Mr. Tucker.

"We came close to destroying ourselves on Vulcan as well."

"Let's get in out of the wind and look at some big mirrors," said Trip, heading for the door of the closest building. As they approached it opened and a tall young man stepped out and waved at them.

"Commanders, we've been expecting you. Come on in!"

The Thirty Meter Telescope, nearly a century old, was still an impressive machine. Building large telescopes was a difficult and expensive task and the number of stars to be observed was effectively endless so even the older telescopes were still in constant use. T'Pol listened and observed while their guide explained the workings of its adaptive optics. Trip and his father, meanwhile, took advantage of the carte blanche being extended to them to take a more hands on approach, climbing on the struts and closely inspecting various mechanisms. The inside of the dome was even colder than outside, the same as the expected temperature after nightfall. She was glad of the parka.

"I suppose this must seem pretty primitive compared to anything you Vulcans have," said Ben, their guide. "This is an old one, though. We have a number of large telescopes out in space, too." He was a graduate student in his mid twenties. The staff at the observatory consisted of graduate students and maintenance workers. The actual users of the telescope were scattered around the planet while the staff kept it running and built and installed improved sensors.

"I believe the orbital telescopes are actually simpler. There's no need for adaptive optics without the atmosphere in the way. The artificial guide star system is very ingenious. To my knowledge, nothing similar was ever developed on Vulcan."

"Really? How did you get around the atmospheric distortions?"

"We endured them until we could build telescopes in space. Vulcan lacks a sodium layer in the atmosphere, so your system wouldn't work."

"There must have been a way to make it work. I'm sure there's something else in the atmosphere that would fluoresce."

"The best path was identified and we followed it. Vulcans are very patient."

"But we got years of good observations with this technology before we could build really big 'scopes in space."

"It's a key difference between Humans and Vulcans. You push, you tinker, you _improvise_. It's a trait I've come to value," she said, looking at Trip, who was shoulders deep into an equipment cabinet. She worked hard to keep the fondness she felt out of her voice.

After their tour, the other observatory staffers were waiting in the break room, eager to talk with explorers who had close up knowledge of the phenomena they devoted their careers to studying. T'Pol was quizzed intently by the graduate students while Trip and his father talked shop with the engineers.

When Trip broke away to get a drink, he was followed by one of the graduate students who had been on the outskirts of the conversations. He seemed a bit older than the others.

Out of earshot of the others, he broke his silence. "Commander Tucker, I've been looking over the information on the TREC mission. Your first vertex is within twenty light years of pulsar SGRJ2020-4271. That's your real objective, isn't it?"

"Well, I know there's a pulsar out there. I can't remember the number off hand." Archer had warned them that the pulsar could be a sticky topic and this guy seemed a little too intense. Well, he didn't really know anything about it, so why not pass the buck? It was her idea anyway. "T'Pol would, though, why don't you ask her?"

"Are you aware that SGRJ2020-4271 may have been artificially created?"

"Why would anyone want to make a pulsar?" Trip asked, as he put his cup in the beverage dispenser.

"It would be the first step to creating a naked singularity." He watched Trip, expecting a reaction.

Trip got his cup of tea and took a sip. "Like there aren't enough black holes already. You know that the Vulcans have surveyed over two thousand of the things?"

The man rolled his eyes. "A naked singularity is special. It would let you manipulate time and space. Access alternate universes!"

Trip chuckled. "Oh, you've really got to talk to T'Pol. This is right up her alley."

"A Vulcan would never believe it. They don't believe in time travel let alone alternate universes."

"Why don't you try her?" he said, walking back towards the group.

Trip, Charles and T'Pol found themselves crowded into a tiny office in the basement of the observatory. Peter, the graduate student, showed them pictures from his files.

He ran a finger along the screen. "Look, see that line there? It's a straight edge the size of a planet in orbit around SGRJ2020-4271. It's got to be some kind of equipment!" Enlarged as the image was, the pixels were big and chunky, and the line he was pointing to was only a dozen pixels long.

"It could be an image processing artifact," T'Pol countered.

"No way, I've taken all that into account. And there are others! The area within thirty light years of that pulsar shows multiple massive structures."

"Why haven't you published? Perhaps you could get support for a more in-depth study."

"No one will take it seriously." He sighed. "Everyone is afraid the Vulcan Science Academy will dismiss it as frivolous."

"I was unaware that the Vulcan Science Academy controlled Earth's research institutes."

"Just a sneer from them will send most of the academic world running." He slumped in his seat.

"_I_ am not controlled by the Vulcan Science Academy. Send me your information and we will investigate when we are in the region."

Later, as they returned to the resort in the hovercar, Charles asked, "All that stuff Peter was talking about was pretty far out there. Do you think there's anything to it?"

T'Pol replied, "The evidence is inconclusive. Our brains, Human and Vulcan, are primed to seek out patterns."

Trip said, "Sure, there were all kinds of things people saw in telescopes or in pictures. Canals on Mars, Jesus on refrigerators."

T'Pol nodded. "That is probably the case here. However, the pulsar in question is already a mystery. We will not know until we can make closer observations."

August 6 2156 2245 (Hawaii Standard Time) – Naniloa Resort, Hilo, Hawaii, Earth (Sol III)

T'Pol sat on the wooden bench, spine erect and eyes closed, basking in the heat of the sauna. The small room was empty and she found the silence and lack of vacationing Humans agreeable.

There was knock at the door. Eloise Tucker, wrapped in a towel, slipped in quickly, releasing little of the heat. "Trip told me you would probably be in here. Do you mind if I join you?"

"Please," T'Pol said, gesturing at the bench. She felt her nervousness from the morning returning.

"So, T'Pol, how are you enjoying Hawaii?" Eloise asked, sitting down next to her.

"It is very comfortable. This is my first time at a Human resort."

"Do they have vacation spots on Vulcan?"

"Our destinations are usually historical or educational in nature. Vulcans don't take vacations."

"Or honeymoons, I'm told."

"That is correct," she replied, uncomfortable with the turn the conversation was taking.

Eloise smoothed the towel over her legs. "When _Enterprise_ returned from the Xindi mission, Charles and I were on Alpha Centauri visiting his brother. We got back a couple of days after Trip returned from Vulcan. He's pretty tight lipped about his personal life but explaining about your wedding seemed to cause him a lot of anguish."

"I was forced into marrying Koss, my betrothed from childhood. I intended it to be only a marriage of convenience and I thought I had made my feelings clear to Trip, but he was unable to accommodate that. In retrospect, I should have been more direct with him, but I have little experience in talking about emotions. I am truly sorry for the pain I caused him."

"Trip says you're divorced now."

"That is correct."

Eloise sighed. "T'Pol, I worry about him. He's not good at casual dating. He usually jumps in with both feet. I know that Vulcans don't value emotions, but they're important to us. Please take good care of him."

"I've learned much about the importance of emotions. And I value Trip. I assure you that I do not view this relationship as casual. I will do my best to make him happy."

"I think you're doing well so far. I haven't seen him this happy in years. How are you? I don't know how to read Vulcans," she said, studying T'Pol's face.

"You could say I am happy," T'Pol said, looking Eloise in the eye.

August 15 2156 1900 (Hawaii Standard Time) – Naniloa Resort, Hilo, Hawaii, Earth (Sol III)

Their time in Hawaii had passed pleasantly and they had sampled many of the tourist attractions the island had to offer. Dinner together had become a daily ritual with Trip and his parents talking while T'Pol mainly listened and ate. The next day she and Trip would return to Enterprise. Trip was showing his parents some pictures on a PADD. This one had T'Pol in diving gear on a boat.

"This was T'Pol's dive today after getting certified."

"Is that a full wet suit she's wearing?" asked Charles.

"Yeah, they found it in the back of the shop. I think they keep them there just for the Vulcans," Trip said, winking at T'Pol.

"On our next trip to Vulcan, perhaps we should go hiking in the Forge."

Trip shook his head. "Oh no, me and deserts don't get along."

"Now, fair's fair, Trip," said his mother. "You got T'Pol to go scuba diving, so you should do some desert hiking"

"But there's neat stuff in the ocean!" He flipped through pictures on the PADD. "Look at this picture T'Pol took of me and a fan coral. And here's one of a sea turtle!"

T'Pol said, "There is wildlife in the Forge. The Captain and I encountered a _sehlat_ while we were there."

"He told me about that. And you don't have any pictures of it because you were too busy trying not to be dinner!"

"Indeed," she allowed, as Trip's parents laughed. She let them finish, then said, "I have been meaning to ask about Trip's accent. It seems to be different from yours and even from other Humans I have met from your area."

"Oh boy, here we go," muttered Trip as he folded his arms and slouched down in his chair.

Charles laughed. "You want to know why he talks in that corn pone honky tonk way? Eloise and me, we're from Minnesota originally. We moved to Panama City when Trip was six. The other kids picked on him, calling him a 'damn Yankee,' so he started using that deep fried accent to be more 'Southern' than anybody else. We tried to get him to stop for years, but you must know how stubborn he is."

"I like the way I talk," Trip said, thickening his accent even more.

"We do too, honey," his mother reassured him. "We just think it's funny, that's all."

"So it is a result of childhood trauma. Fascinating," she said as she lifted her eyebrow at Trip.

After dinner Trip and T'Pol took an autotaxi away from the hotel to a secluded beach. They sat on the warm sand as the faintly glowing breakers rolled in.

There were few houses nearby and the darkness was nearly complete on this moonless night.

Trip's eyes had adjusted to the dark. He leaned back onto the beach towel and looked up at the sky. "I love getting away where you can see the Milky Way," he said.

"It's too faint for me to see," said T'Pol. Her eyes were shut as she listened to the rhythm of the waves coming in.

"Really? So you can't see it, even when it's pitch dark?"

"No, just the brightest stars. It's only totally dark for approximately an hour every evening, when T'Khut is eclipsed by Vulcan, so our eyes didn't evolve to work in low light."

"That's a pity, it's a hell of a sight."

"I read a pre-Surak text that referred to the night sky, when T'Khut is eclipsed, as 'The Ocean of Night'."

"That's kind of poetic, I like it."

"To Vulcans, oceans are places of danger. It's not a positive image."

"But your people went. They built ships and went out across that ocean of night, and found other people."

"It's not logical to be afraid of the dark."


	28. Spike!

_Thanks as always to Alelou for advice and support!_

Chapter 28 - Spike!

August 17, 2156 1230 (Pacific Standard Time) – StarFleet Headquarters, Sausalito, Earth (Sol III)

The weather had cooperated for the crew's last day on Earth. The grassy field south of Starfleet HQ was an ideal spot for a cookout. Several volleyball nets were set up and games were getting started. Archer had given his requisite speech and disbursed some long overdue promotions first and now had no responsibilities for the remainder of the day. He got a burger and some potato salad from Chef, holding court at the grill, and went looking for a spot to sit.

Trip and T'Pol were sitting together, of course, and he plopped down beside them. T'Pol was looking at her plate with distaste.

"What's the matter, Commander? You didn't get meat by mistake did you?" Archer asked.

"No, it is a 'veggie burger.'" T'Pol tilted her head to look at it from a different angle.

"She's trying to figure out how she can eat it without touching it with her fingers," said Trip. He took another bite from his burger as he watched her with amusement.

"Why didn't you get something you could eat with a fork?" asked Archer.

"Chef insisted," replied T'Pol as she finally wrapped the sandwich in a paper napkin. "He said I 'owed him'."

"Better add another layer just in case," teased Trip. He received a glare from her and laughed.

Phlox approached, carrying not a plate, but something large enough to be called a platter. "One of everything, Doc?" asked Trip.

"Yes, yes indeed. Chef was most accommodating. I've never had an opportunity to sample Human outdoor cooking."

Travis, Hoshi and Malcolm joined them.

"Lieutenant Commander, Lieutenants, have a seat," said Archer.

"Congratulations!" said Trip. "Those promotions are long overdue."

"I understand you should be congratulated as well, _Doctor_ Tucker," said Malcolm as he sat down.

"Yup, finally got my thesis finished and accepted!" replied Trip.

"Wait, _Doctor_ Tucker?" asked Hoshi. She sat down beside Trip on the grass.

"Yes, why do you ask, _Doctor_ Sato?"

"How did you get a doctorate? You told me you never even got your bachelor's!" she said, voice climbing.

Archer laughed. "Hoshi, I know you don't need to use a dictionary but you should look up 'gullible.' I think your picture may be in there. There's no way Starfleet would hand over their premier starship to someone without a degree. Though, they did stretch it a bit for Trip and his degree in 'Boat Engines'."

"Oooh! I can't believe I fell for that!" Hoshi punched Trip in the arm.

"It's getting pretty rarefied on the bridge," said Malcolm. "I suppose I shall have to go back for a Masters or something."

"Going to be lots of time on this TREC mission," said Trip. "T'Pol was a big help in getting my thesis all organized."

"This corn is delicious," said Phlox, waving a piece of corn-on-the-cob. He took another bite off the end.

"Doctor, most people don't eat the middle part," Travis said.

"Really? The texture is remarkable!" Phlox replied.

"T'Pol, what is your degree in, anyway?" asked Hoshi. "It seems like you know everything."

T'Pol put her veggie burger down on her plate. "I studied at the Vulcan Science Academy. They only grant one degree, the _ek'tal-vah-k'lekta_. It is the equivalent of a Human doctorate in most areas of science and mathematics."

"How long does this degree take to get, or is that classified information?" asked Archer.

"Sixteen years."

"Sixteen years?" asked Trip. "Talk about your perpetual students! I don't suppose the Vulcan Science Academy is known for its parties, is it?"

"No. That would be the Vulcan Science College. They are on the other side of Shi'Kahr." She returned to eating her veggie burger.

"She's doing it again, Trip. Did you spend your shore leave giving her humor lessons?" asked Archer.

"No, we found other things to keep ourselves occupied," said Trip, with a grin. "T'Pol learned how to scuba dive!"

* * *

The volleyball competition had been hard fought. Eight teams had been formed and two rounds of elimination had been completed. Science Team had narrowly defeated Engineering in the second round and the MACOs had edged out Security. There was a thirty minute break before the final round and Science Team was concerned.

Ensign Spector was the team captain. Growing up in New San Diego, outdoor volleyball had been a common sport, at least on those days when the wind wasn't blowing from the north or south and carrying radiation from the cratered remains of Old Los Angeles or Old San Diego. She wasn't tall, but years of practice had made her an excellent setter.

"We haven't got enough height", complained Ensign Park, an astrophysicist. "We were lucky Rostov can't manage to spike to save his life. I think the MACOs are going to run over us."

"We can dig, and we can set. We just need a spiker." Spector rubbed her chin in thought. "Hmmm…maybe we should try to get Commander T'Pol to play."

"One, she never plays _anything_. Two, she's even shorter than you are! Haven't you noticed those heels she wears?" said Park.

"It's not about how tall you are, it's about how high you can get off the ground," said Spector as she started looking around for T'Pol.

* * *

Melek walked along balancing a disposable plate atop a cup, distinct in her black Imperial Guard uniform. Many of the Humans had complained about how chilly San Francisco was but she found it sweltering. Five years with these people was going to be a challenge; one she would have forgone without the enticements offered to her by both the Guard and Kralek Heavy Industries. She took another bite of the "hot dog." At least their food was good.

"Melek, come join us," called Rostov from a circle of Engineering personnel. The Humans were friendly, too, if sometimes a bit dense. As long as she could stay out of fights with the Vulcan it would be fine, she told herself.

* * *

After the bridge team finished eating, they broke up to mingle with the rest of the crew. T'Pol migrated to a cluster of scientists and soon was deep in a discussion of stellar evolution. Ensign Spector, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, came up beside her.

"T'Pol, how high do you think you can jump in this gravity?"

She considered for a moment. "Perhaps a little over two meters. Why do you ask?"

"That's what I thought. Science Team is going up against the MACOs in volleyball in a few minutes and we need an edge."

"Sporting contests are illogical."

"Amanda Cole is playing for the MACOs."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "The Captain _has_ requested that I work harder to raise morale."

* * *

_Enterprise's_ new Foreign Ministry team, Tom and Veena, relaxed on the grass with beers as the Science and MACO teams got themselves organized on a volleyball court. The MACOs won the toss and the server, an Asian man, unleashed a perfect jump serve that sizzled across the net. In the Science team's back row a player dove and managed to pop the ball up. It came down and was set, this time high into the air.

Tom said "Kind of a high set…" as the Vulcan First Officer suddenly sprang into the air, topping out with her knees above the net, and smashed the ball down onto the MACOs' side. The young woman with the black hair who had dove for it rose, shaking her head ruefully.

Veena took a sip of her beer. "There's a lot of hidden depths in these people," she said.

Tom snickered. "More like hidden heights. Speaking of surprises, when is your poker rematch?"

* * *

Archer walked along with Trip, looking out over the water.

"I wonder when we'll be able to have another cookout like this," Jon said, turning his face up to look at the blue sky.

"Hopefully not too long," replied Trip. "Chef's got a fine touch with the grill."

"His food's a big boost for crew morale. It was tough getting him assigned."

Trip grinned at Archer and rolled his tongue in his cheek. "You know, I had a chat with Chef the other night, and he said that he told _you_ that he was going to be on _Enterprise._"

Jon gave a little laugh and shook his head. "There's some truth to that, but what _Chief Petty Officer_ Ryder forgets is that even in the old, more relaxed StarFleet, Chief Petty Officers didn't write their own orders. Captain Chang did _not_ want to lose him. I got Admiral Forrest to override him."

"How'd you manage that?"

"I had Cunningham make him dinner."

* * *

T'Pol sat in a quiet spot a distance from the festivities and upwind from the grills. The volleyball victory had been agreeable and now she felt that she had contributed enough to crew morale for the day. She saw Ambassador Soval arrive, wearing a simple brown suit instead of his Vulcan robes. She watched him exchange greetings with Captain Archer and Trip before he collected some food from Chef and headed towards her carrying a bowl and a plate. She rose when he got close.

"_Ambassador_," she said in Vulcan, inclining her head.

"_T'Pol. It is agreeable to see you._"

They sat down on the grass. She looked at Soval's food. The bowl held some kind of a reddish-brown stew and the plate had something that looked like a…dessert? She looked pointedly at the sweet.

Soval said blandly, _"I have known Chef Ryder many years. It pleases him when I eat his desserts. Your participation in the _volleyball_ game was unanticipated."_

"_It helps to improve crew morale."_

Soval looked at her sidelong and ate a spoonful of chili. _"Perhaps we have both been among Humans too long. It was not my intent to alienate you from Vulcan society when I assigned you to _Enterprise_. You have exceeded my expectations in accomplishing the task I set you and I know it has required a great deal of personal sacrifice."_

T'Pol inclined her head. _"I believe that what I have done has been in the best interests of Vulcan. It is agreeable that my logic matches yours."_

"_Vulcan is in turmoil. The changes in government and society were necessary but they are having the effect of making us reliant on the Humans for more and more of our defense. I, and Administrator T'Pau, may need your insights into humanity while you are on your mission."_ He reached into a pocket and removed a small box. _"This is a secure communications link. It can send transmissions through the StarFleet network disguised as protocol overhead."_

She made no move to take it from him. _"I will not conceal secrets from Captain Archer."_

Soval nodded. _"You may tell Captain Archer about this link and let him make the decision whether to accept it. We value his advice as well."_

She reached out and took it. Soval returned his attention to his food and she watched the crew at their festivities. When Soval was finished he placed his plate and bowl on the grass and stood. She stood as well and he faced her and looked her squarely in the eyes. _"You will be going where no Vulcan has gone before. I wish you a safe voyage."_ He raised his hand in the _ta'al_._ "Live long and prosper, T'Pol." _

She raised her hand and mirrored his gesture. _"Peace and long life, Soval."_


	29. Into the Dark

_The first chapter of the second part of this story, The Ocean of Night, has been posted, so I'm reposting this chapter so subscribers get a notification. Nothing new otherwise.  
_

_Thanks as always to Alelou for advice and support. Sorry for the delay, hope you enjoy this chapter!_

Chapter 29 – Into the Dark

August 18, 2156 2030 (Pacific Time) – _Enterprise_, Jupiter Orbit (Sol V)

_Enterprise_ had completed the final preparations and was scheduled to begin her mission the next morning. Fully fueled, she was now in orbit around Jupiter following standard procedure. Jupiter Station was over the horizon, protected from a warp core breach by the bulk of the gas giant.

Archer had Trip and T'Pol in his cabin for a pre-mission drink. Hawaii must have agreed with them; they seemed much more relaxed around each other and the constant bickering had abated. He decided to wait until they were in deep space before trying to figure out just how close their relationship had become. T'Pol accepted a small glass of white wine. Jon poured single malt into tumblers for Trip and himself.

Jon raised his glass. "To our missing friends." Trip echoed him and T'Pol raised her glass in silent salute.

Trip sat down heavily in a chair. "I am bushed. Normal fueling has me as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs and this was twenty times our usual load of antimatter."

"There were a lot of tenders coming and going all day. I hope there's no new scratches on the paint," said Archer.

"There were no collisions, Captain," T'Pol said.

"I'm glad you got to see more of Earth before we leave. What did you think of Hawaii?"

"I believe I understand the Human penchant for 'resorts'." She took a sip of her wine. "And I discovered the root cause of Commander Tucker's speech irregularities."

August 18, 2156 2035 (Pacific Time) – Asteroid Belt (Sol IV.5)

The Romulan drones, launched by the _Alidar_ two weeks previously, passed through the asteroid belt at ninety percent of the speed of light without mishap. Leaving the asteroid belt, their precision timers completed their countdown and the drones began to power up. When they reached the orbit of Mars, four minutes later to the outside observer, their power up cycle completed. Fusion reactors fired up miniature stars inside of them and their subspace transmitters reached out to the relays left by the _Alidar_ for instructions from their crews. The drones were silent no longer.

August 18, 2156 2139 (Mountain Time) – Cheyenne Mountain, Earth (Sol III)

In the wake of the Xindi probe attack on Earth, the ancient mountain citadel had been transformed from a museum into the command post for Earth's defenses. Two thousand meters beneath the summit of the mountain, CentCom occupied a large room. The big displays at the front of the room showed a peaceful Solar System. The traffic moving about was represented as vector arrows; blue for Starfleet, green for commercial and a few scattered amber alien vessels.

Admiral Kutuzov, the on-duty Commander-in-Chief Sol System, or CinCSol, relaxed at his desk in the back of the command center. In front of him Starfleet personnel were monitoring and directing operations among the eight planets and out to the edges of the Oort cloud. He sipped from his cup of tea, amused as always at the irony of a Russian admiral commanding in a place once dedicated to defending against his motherland.

Alerts popped up on consoles as subspace detectors placed around the Solar System detected the incoming drones and relayed their results. At the front of the room a set of red vector arrows flashed on the inner system display, pointed at Earth.

The young lieutenant at the central console said, "Admiral, we have multiple incoming bogies at high sub-light on a trajectory for Earth. Sir, they're inside Mars orbit already!"

Kutuzov sat up straight, spilling tea down his front. "_Tchort!_ How did they get there? Never mind. What's their ETA?"

"They arrive at Earth orbit in eight minutes, fifteen seconds."

Before the Xindi attack, Kutuzov might have hesitated. Today he did not, taking only a second to make a decision. "Go to DEFCON 1. Situation Goal Line."

At the central console, Lieutenant Chang began keying in commands. Across the Solar System alarms began blaring and people and machines were set in motion.

August 18, 2156 0340 (Central European Time) Prime Minister's Residence, Brussels, Earth (Sol III)

The door burst open and the lights flipped on in Minister Samuels' bedroom. His security detail ran into the room and pulled him out of bed. Before he knew what was happening, he was halfway through the door, his wife being hustled along behind him.

"What the hell?" he asked, rapidly coming awake from the adrenaline surge.

"Starfleet just declared Situation Goal Line, sir," the head of his security detail told him, still carrying him with another bodyguard as they ran down the corridor. "We have incoming enemy ships, ETA seven minutes. There's a shuttle on the pad to take you to Starfleet 1."

Samuels fought down a wave of nausea as he remembered the Xindi attack. "Put me down," he told his bodyguards. "I can run."

August 18, 2156 2040 (Pacific Time) Starfleet Headquarters, Earth (Sol III)

It had been a long day of negotiations on weapons and technology exchange between Earth and Andoria. After it was over, Admiral Gardner had invited Director Talarak back to his office for a drink. The past few months had built a healthy respect between the two. As usual, Talarak had requested 'tekila' and so Gardner was searching through his bar for a lime for his own tequila shot when the view screen on his desk lit red and the alarm sounded.

Gardner rushed over and punched for CincSol. Kutuzov quickly and efficiently relayed the situation to the Chief of Naval Operations.

He turned to Talarak. "Director, we have what looks like an incoming attack. The command bunker will be about as safe as we can get." He ushered her out the door. Their drinks were forgotten on the little bar.

August 18, 2156 2041 (Pacific Time) – _Enterprise_, Jupiter Orbit (Sol V)

Archer had managed to get a couple of vacation stories out of T'Pol when the tactical alert sounded. _Enterprise_ suddenly shuddered and Jupiter disappeared from the window.

"What the hell?" said Archer. Trip and T'Pol put their glasses on the table and ran out the door. The wall communicator chimed. "Report," he hollered as he mashed the button.

Ensign Gutierrez' voice came out of the communicator. Gutierrez was the new Starfleet, trained after the Xindi attack and his voice had changed to that flat, unemotional tone military personnel tended to adopt when the stress levels were high and they were doing everything exactly by the book to avoid mistakes. "Sir, we are now at DEFCON 1. Situation Goal Line has been declared and we are responding to an all ships recall that was issued by CentCom."

"I'm on my way," Archer said, and ran out the door as _Enterprise_ cleared Jupiter's gravity well and went to warp, headed for Earth. Shran's words came back to him, _The ship is strong. The ship will get everyone through._

* * *

T'Pol clamped down on her trepidation as she took the center seat. After Azati Prime she had no desire to ever command in battle again. Lieutenant Commander Reed had beaten her to the bridge and was running through the litany of combat preparations. She turned her head when she heard the turbolift door open, but it was Lieutenant Mayweather, not the captain, who emerged and headed for the helmsman's seat.

The next time the turbolift opened it was the captain. "Report," he snapped out as she rose from the chair. His face was set in the hard grimace he had worn in the Delphic Expanse.

"We are at Warp 3. All stations are at tactical alert. Shields are raised and all weapons are online. CentCom is vectoring us on an intercept course with the incoming ships. ETA is three minutes, forty seven seconds." She headed to the safety of the science station.

He turned to Reed. "What do we know about these ships?"

"They're at high sub-light, decelerating rapidly." He worked the controls on his console. "We're starting to get some resolution. It looked like one large ship originally, now I'm seeing forty-eight small ships, all fusion powered. They appear to be armed with disruptors and… " He looked up. "High yield thermonuclear weapons."

August 18, 2156 2044 (Pacific Time) – Warbird _Alidar_, Interstellar space (near Sol)

Subcommander Merik watched the tactical displays intently. The drones, a light year away, were red on the displays. Green icons, representing enemy ships, were beginning to change their vectors, pointing at the cluster of drones.

"Prepare for incoming hostiles," he ordered the control crews. "Begin evasive maneuvers and engage the enemy at will."

August 18, 2156 2047 (Pacific Time) – _Enterprise _

Archer looked at the tactical display on his chair. _Enterprise_ would be first on the scene. He glanced around the bridge at the stations. He prayed that they wouldn't lose anyone today. The intruders showed as a swarm of blips in loose formation ten or fifteen kilometers across, jinking around wildly.

The helmsman spoke up. "Emerging from warp in…5…4…3…2…_now!_"

As soon as _Enterprise_ re-entered normal space, weapons fire from the intruders began bombarding her shields. "Weapons free," Archer ordered, but the phase cannons remained silent. He looked over at the tactical officer.

"They're skittering around. I can't get a bloody lock on any of them."

"Scans are showing no life signs and no inertial dampening fields," said the science officer, hunched over her viewer.

The tactical officer nodded. "That's why we can't get a lock. The inertial dampening keeps a ship from jinking sideways normally. Torpedoes are going to be useless against them as well."

"How do we compensate?" Archer asked.

The science officer turned away from her viewer. "The new point defense mode for the phase cannons should be able to react quickly enough."

The tactical office ssaid, "We're going to have to get in pretty close. Within two kilometers and the targets will need to be on an intercept course."

"Will it work?" Archer asked.

"As long as the shields hold out. We're at ninety-five percent. We're going to take a beating."

"Helm, how long until we reach Earth?"

"Less than three minutes at this rate."

"Sir, _Vineta_, _Repulse_ and _Discovery_ have just arrived."

_Be smart_, Archer told himself. "Phase cannons to point defense mode. Full impulse, take us in front of the formation, then reverse course to go right through. Tell the other ships to follow us and to make sure their IFF is working."

_Enterprise _leapt forward, the other Starfleet ships following close behind and took up a position directly in front of the formation of violently maneuvering drones and then spun to pass through their formation. _Enterprise's_ point defense system, the last ditch defense against incoming torpedoes, identified the onrushing drones as threats and rapidly pulsed out phase cannon fire that splashed off their shields. The lights dimmed on the bridge as disruptor bursts from the drones hit _Enterprise's_ shields. In five seconds they were through the formation.

"Report!" snapped Archer.

"We took out one of the drones. _Vineta_ took one out as well. _Repulse _took heavy damage. Our shields are at forty percent."

"That's fifty-five percent of the shields we lost. Think we'll survive another pass?"

"We should. We can bring the hull polarizers online as well."

"Bridge to Engineering. We need the shield regenerated. Can you do it?"

Down in Engineering, Trip looked over at Melek and Rostov at the shield generator console. "Well, you heard the man. Can we boost them?"

"We need thirty seconds," said Melek. "And another twenty five terajoules of power and we should be able to boost to seventy percent."

"Back to seventy percent in thirty seconds, Cap'n," replied Trip as he rerouted power around the grid. As usual during a battle, he had no idea what was going on outside the ship. He could feel T'Pol's anxiety in the back of his head, he could see the power drains around the ship and he could feel the hits the ship had taken. The captain had announced the situation to the ship while they were under warp. It didn't sound too good to Trip.

Archer looked around the bridge and took a breath. "Helm, leap frog and take us through them again in twenty seconds."

"Aye, aye sir."

August 18, 2156 2150 (Mountain Time) – Cheyenne Mountain, Earth (Sol III)

The atmosphere in CentCom was tense. The defending ships had made near suicidal attacks on the incoming drones and although they had taken out several, nearly forty still remained. The red vector of the drones merged with the Earth's blue circle on the display and it switched from the inner Solar System view to a tactical view of near-Earth space. Lieutenant Chang announced, "Hostiles have reached Earth orbit. Attack shuttles are scrambling now."

"How many hostiles remaining?" asked Kutuzov.

"Thirty eight. Correction, thirty seven. One of just exploded inside SpaceDock. Nuclear fusion weapon, yield of approximately fifty megatons."

Kutuzov took another look at the displays. More ships were incoming but it would be a few minutes before they arrived. This was supposed to be defense in depth. Somehow the unknown enemy had skipped through most of the layers.

"Attack shuttle status?"

Chang tapped around his screen. "Unable to overtake. The hostiles are in a forced orbit at seventy-five gees. The shuttles don't have enough inertial compensation for that. The heavies are keeping up."

"What's the period?"

"Ten minutes."

"What are they doing? Why didn't they just vector straight to their targets?"

August 18, 2156 2053 (Pacific Time) – Warbird _Alidar_, Interstellar space (near Sol)

The drones were skimming around the Earth at over 230,000 kilometers per hour as the crews on _Alidar_ tried to get a terrain lock and identify where their targets were. So far they'd identified the secondary ocean and were now somewhere over the largest landmass. Although the drones were moving slowly by interstellar standard, the terrain sped by with confusing rapidity at this low altitude. Navigational arrays bounced out ranging pulses, mapping the surface as the navigation computers tried to match the territory to their maps.

The navigator for the group was sitting in front of him, calling out their progress. "Caspian_ Masutar_ _identified_." A few seconds later, "_We have a lock on _Everest_ rahai_. _Lock on _Kang, Kangchenjunga_ rahai_," the young _uhlan_ spat out, the unfamiliar names catching in his mouth. "_Guidance platform is aligned and tracking_." Two points define a line; the tall mountains had been proudly marked on the stolen maps and now oriented the drones for their attack runs.

The pursing starships continue to pound at the drones. At this slow speed, the starships had gotten close enough that the evasive maneuvers were no longer effective.

The group's tactical officer spoke over the common channel. "_Sir, Defender Four has a huge anti-matter signature. If we can cause a warp core breach, the collateral damage will be bigger than our warheads._"

"_Excellent analysis_," Merik said and allowed himself a feral grin. He made a quick decision, looking at his list of targets. "_Drones Three, Six, Seven and Fourteen, concentrate on Defender Four. All other units begin your attack runs._" The drones spun and re-vectored to their targets.

August 18, 2156 2054 (Pacific Time) Starfleet Headquarters Bunker, Earth (Sol III)

Talarak sat, watching the Humans as they battled for their planet. Gardner paced, clearly uncomfortable at being on the sidelines at this moment. He had told her that Kutuzov, in another bunker, was commanding, even though he was subordinate to Gardner. An Andorian general would have simply grabbed control, but Gardner said Kutuzov was competent and already in command and there was no sense in wasting time trying to take over.

Her translator was hard-pressed to keep up with the rapidly speaking Humans. Terse bulletins in their clipped battle language came over the speakers, using words that were clearly repurposed as they made no sense otherwise. She was able to make enough sense of their communications and displays to understand that _Enterprise_ was being targeted now. She suddenly recalled what Gardner had told her earlier about _Enterprise's_ fuel status and her trained engineering mind did some quick arithmetic.

"Admiral," she called. "Did _Enterprise_ take on all of that anti-matter you mentioned to me before?"

"Yes, they completed fueling this afternoon. Why?"

"They're being targeted by the drones, correct? If their warp core breaches, the explosion will be about forty gigatons as you measure it. That will rip the atmosphere off half the planet."

The blood drained from Gardner's face.

_So that's why they call them white people_, Talarak thought.

"Get me _Enterprise_ Actual," Gardner shouted.

August 18, 2156 2054 (Pacific Time) _Enterprise _bridge, Earth (Sol III)

"Admiral Gardner for _Enterprise_ Actual," the communications officer called.

"Shields down to ten percent, they're coming around for another pass," said the tactical officer.

"Hull polarization to maximum. Little busy here, Admiral," he said to the image on the little view screen on his chair.

"_Enterprise, _you have to break off now!" Gardner shouted. "With all that antimatter on board if your warp core breaches you're going to take out China."

Stunned, Archer looked to his science officer for confirmation. Eyes wide she looked back at him and nodded. A trio of hits rocked the ship. "Shields are down, hull polarizers are online," came the word from the tactical officer.

"We'll be OK, we always are," Archer said.

"Damn it, Jon, that's an order. You're the biggest danger right now. We've got plenty of ships, you're not making that much of a difference. And if there's a second wave, I want you and the backup library out of range."

Archer looked around the bridge at the stations, then blinked and saw his crew. He'd been prepared to spend his life and theirs in defense of Earth, but now their deaths would cause more damage, not protect. He didn't know how he would live with himself after the drones delivered their deadly payloads but the braver action was not to sacrifice himself and his ship. "_Enterprise_ is breaking off," Archer responded. "Helm, get us out of here," he snapped out.

Gardner looked off-screen, nodded, and then turned back to the screen. "We have a line on their control signals, try to track down the mother ship. The signals are coming from about two light weeks out, vector two three zero mark seven. And Godspeed, _Enterprise._"

"Helm, heading two three zero mark seven, take us to warp five." He thumbed the communicator button. "Good luck, Sam" he said softly.

_Enterprise _boosted away from the planet under full impulse, leaving the drones in her wake. As she rose, more and more of Asia spread out below her. The bridge crew looked up from their stations at their home. On the view screen streaks of phase cannon fire rose up from ground defenses, searing bright orange columns in the atmosphere. Two bright flashes appeared on the ground. Starships maneuvered in front of _Enterprise_, firing desperately at dark shapes. Now, mushroom clouds rose where the bright flashes had been. There was one in China and another, ahead, in Japan. "No, not again," wailed Hoshi.

Earth disappeared from the view screen as they entered warp. The mushroom clouds remained seared on their retinas.

_Author's note: Wow, 29 chapters. Thank you for reading this far, I've enjoyed writing this immensely and appreciate all of the reviews. This is not the end, but it is the end of the beginning. The story continue in part 2, The Ocean of Night, which is now online.  
_


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